


The Lion and The Lamb

by AccioMarina



Category: The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, F/M, Finnick and Annie au, Fluff and Angst, Violence, painful, will encompass years
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-29
Updated: 2016-12-09
Packaged: 2018-05-30 00:16:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 19
Words: 54,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6399937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AccioMarina/pseuds/AccioMarina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke is chosen as a tribute in the 70th annual Hunger Games, her mentor is the charming and charismatic Bellamy Blake who Clarke absolutely loathes. But complications arise when both tribute and mentor begin to show feelings for one another. A sort of Finnick and Annie au. Will be multi chapter and encompass years from the 70th to Mockingjay.</p>
<p>Nominated for the Bellarke 2016 Fanfiction Awards for Best Crossover Fiction</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chained Princess

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! Ok so I was watching Mockingjay Part 2 last night because I’d gotten it as an Easter gift and this idea just popped into my head and wouldn’t leave me alone until I wrote this fic. So here you go the Finick and Annie Hunger Games Au that no one asked for but is totally addicting. Your welcome.

_And so the Lion fell in love with the lamb_

"Clarke Griffin!" Annora's cheerful voice had spoken into the microphone. A guilty sigh echoed through the crowd on the girl's side of the square because their names hadn't been called. But someone's had, a very well known person in fact.

Bellamy watched from his seat on the stage as a blonde haired girl walked down the center isle. Her hair was held back in its traditional French braid. _Clarke Griffin the town princess_. Bellamy had always been envious of her with her wealth and future. A future nor him or Octavia ever had a chance at grasping. Clarke's mother was District Four's mayor and head doctor. The Griffin's were a household name, everyone knew who they were. Clarke was two years younger then him in school, they'd spoken only once he doubts she even remembers their brief encounter. Back than it had been much simpler times, all he had to worry about was keeping food in Octavia's stomach and a roof over their heads. Now they had both of those things but it all came with a much bigger price then even Bellamy himself could have expected. Octavia sat to Bellamy's right in a chair matching his. What he wouldn't give for her to not have been on the stage at all, but like before those moments are in the past. Now is the present and it is just as painful.

Bellamy zero's back in on Clarke, she's almost at the stage now. Her fingers are gripping the hem at the bottom of her dress; Bellamy suspects it's out of comfort, she's clinging to the only thing she has left. Clarke isn't crying, that surprises him most kids can barely make it to the stage without crumpling from shock. Out of the corner of his eye he can see Abby Griffin, Clarke's mother, shift slightly forward in her seat like she wants to rush towards her daughter. Bellamy knows there is nothing Abby can do for Clarke now, Annora sealed her fate when she plucked Clarke's name out of the fishbowl of others.

Clarke's on stage now with Annora congratulating her and prompting the silent shocked crowd to clap at her death sentence. Bellamy rolls his eyes, _it's the same damn show every year_. The camera zooms in on Clarke's face, she looks like ever the prim and proper princess he'd always known her to be. Her silvery blue eyes give nothing away, it's like looking at a statue beautiful but frozen in it's cold perfection. Clarke's mouth is a firm line, grim and silent not like the smile he'd seen in the hallways at school. Her fingers are her tell though, they switch and shake with Annora's every word. _Brave princess,_ Bellamy thinks, _even after walking to her death she can still hold her head high for the cameras. They haven't broken her yet._ But Bellamy knows she'll never be free again, even if she wins she'll be shackled to Snow like the rest of them are. 

As Annora reaches into the fishbowl for the male tribute and the camera's pan to her Bellamy can see a single sad tear make it's was down Clarkes cheek almost like she knows exactly what he's thinking. _Tragic princess,_ Bellamy thinks, _she can't even properly cry as they pull her from her ivory tower in shackles and hold her to the ground to be trampled on._ Bellamy shakes his head slightly clearing Clarke from his mind; he's Bellamy Blake charming ladies man of the Capital he has to hold that mask while the cameras are on.

The male tribute is Finn Collins Bellamy hadn't even noticed he'd walked onto the stage until Octavia had elbowed him just below his ribs to bring him back to reality.

Neither Clarke or Finn fight as the peacekeepers lead them inside the council building. The doors shut behind them with a final dooming jolt, and just like that the ceremony is over. Bellamy and Octavia are lead off the stage and towards the train that will take them to the capital.

"I'll be mentoring Finn." Octavia told him as they entered the dining car.

"What? Why?" Bellamy's tone sounded like he'd just eaten something sour and fowl smelling.

He always trained the male tributes and Octavia the females. That was how it worked with them, that was how it had always worked. Bellamy had won the 65th annual Hunger Games when he was only 14, the youngest to ever win. The next year, his first year as a mentor, Octavia had been nominated as tribute. Although Bellamy could never prove it he knew Snow had arranged that just to spite him, it had worked. Octavia had won that year, making her victor of the 66th Hunger Games and therefore taking the youngest ever title from him. After that they had each been mentors, so why would she now say she'd mentor Finn over Clarke?

"Trust me big brother." Was all she offered as an explanation before throwing a wink his way and turning her attention towards the pastry dishes on a nearby table. Great another one of O's scheme's just what he needed right now.

*******

After a brief conversation with her mother and an quick awkward hug she was shuffled out of her room and into a car to take her to the train. Clarke had tried to think of things to say to her mother seeing as she'd probably never see her again but nothing had come out, her throat had dried right up and she'd been unable to speak. This was fine with Abby who had no problem filling in Clarke side of the conversation; it's how most of their talks happened these days. Ever since Clarke's father had died Clarke could barley look her mother in the eye let alone speak to the woman. Their relationship had been so strained and rocky over the past year that maybe that's why she couldn't bring herself to regret the last conversation with her mother. Abby would be left alone in her big house with all her regrets and Clarke couldn't bring herself to care, that was a fate she justified her mother deserved.

Annora was cheerfully filling in the silence in the car with her chipper comments on the greatness of the Capital and how much she was looking forward to this year's games. Clarke blocked out Annora and instead focused in on Finn who would be the male tribute for district four this year. He looked tall enough maybe close to 6 foot with an average build. Clarke thought he'd be a decent competitor in the games at least. He had almost shoulder length brown hair that brushed lightly against his chin when he moved his head. He would've been the exact type of boy Clarke would have gone for. _Maybe,_ she thinks, _if things were different, if they weren't both about to die._

The car ride to the train is short maybe two minutes at most. Annora rushes them inside. Clarke only gets a glimpse of the other side before the door slides shut behind her. The train has a sleek design and made of polished steel that shines against the bright sunshine of district four. The inside is just as glamorous as the outside. Annora leads them from one train car to the next pointing out which rooms will be theirs and finally leading them into the dining car.

Clarke has never seen so much food in all her life. There were multiple tables filled with silver trays of any and every food one could imagine. The pastries and deserts held a certain pull for her. True Clarke had never been starving before, both her parents held high paying jobs in the town, they had always had enough food on the table. But she had never seen a feast quite like this before, and definitely never the magnitude that sat in front of her.

In the center of the room was a long table with a number of chars situated around it. On the table sat a number of dishes some native to district four and others that Clarke had never seen before. In front of the table stood two similar looking people. _Bellamy and Octavia Blake: the youngest winners of the Hunger Games and town celebrities_. They were also quite well known in the Capital, stories of their exploits were often featured in the news and broadcasted all across Panam.

Octavia introduced herself first, and than spoke for Bellamy who seemed determined to stay quiet, even so Clarke could feel his eyes judging her probably trying to tell how long she'd last.

"I'll be mentoring Finn and Bellamy will mentor Clarke for individual things like strategies in the games and playing to each of your strengths. Otherwise either of you can come to both of us for advice or support."

Bellamy crossed his arms over his chest in disapproval, clearly he wasn't happy to be stuck with her.

"So what can both of you do?" It was the first time he had spoken throughout the entire exchange; his voice was deep and stern like an older brother talking down to a younger sibling. Clarke suppressed the urge to roll her eyes, he was just like them five years ago just because he was a victor didn't make him better than everyone else. In Clarke's opinion he was just another inflated asshole controlled by the Capital.

Clarke let out an annoyed sigh when Bellamy turned his glare on her. She matched his glare with her own cold stare. Finn ignorant to the awkward silence between Bellamy and Clarke spoke first about his ability to make fishing nets and hooks. To Clarke he seemed almost boastful; _any idiot can make a fishing net._

"Well what about you princess? What can you do?"

Clarke folded her arms over her chest to match Bellamy's stern appearance

"Princess?" She stuck her chin out a him, her lip curing down into a stern line that only annoyed Bellamy even more.

"Yeah you." He'd leaned closer to her, Clarke's eyebrows scrunching together at his challenge.

"I've trained as a doctor, and I know what plants are safe to eat and which can heal wounds-"

Bellamy took a step closer to Clarke invading her personal space and cutting her off. She hadn't realized how big he was. Physically Bellamy could be very imposing, with his arms crossed over his broad chest and that scowl etched on his face. The words died in Clarke's mouth when his freckle-dusted cheeks were only inches from hers.

"Well that's just great the princess knows how to save lives! That will help her immensely in winning the Hunger Games! Please enlighten us on any more hidden talents you possess. "

"My. Name. Is. Clarke." The words slipped out through Clarkes teeth, she was so tired of people treating her like she deserved to be up on a pedestal.

Clarke's hands tighten into fists as she rises onto her toes to be level with him. They stare at each other eye to eye. Clarke bets if she moved fast enough she could break his nose. Before she can answer his insult or call him out further Bellamy steps back from their close stance and storms out the back of the dining car.

The room is silent following the soft swoosh of the car door closing behind Bellamy's retreating form. Octavia and Finn both stand staring wide-eyed looking between Clarke and the door.

"Well," Annora's chipper voice rings out through the room, "That was all very exciting but I do think it is time to eat." She claps her gloved hands together and motions for everyone to take a seat.

Clarke eats in silence eyes still caught on the closed door across the room. Annora talks the entire time, though Clarke doesn't retain a single word Annora's high capital accent fading to the back of her mind. She barley touches her food and even the sight of the desert trays makes her stomach flip. Bellamy doesn't return for dinner nor does she see him while she and Finn watch the other tributes be reaped on the TV in the entertainment car. The mandatory viewing had just finished when Annora had rushed them off to their rooms saying they'd need a good night sleep before arriving at the Capital tomorrow.

Clarke changed silently into the sleeping clothes an Avox must have set out for her, a pain grey top and matching grey silk shorts. She undoes her braid feeling the silky pieces slip through her fingers as they fall free against her shoulders and down her back. Clarke looks up at the mirror and lets herself fall apart, tears and hollowed sobs escape her mouth. Her hands run through her hair and try in vain to wipe at the fallen tears. It's at that moment the door to her room slides open.

She see's him through the mirror before she turns around. He's changed into a pair or jeans and a grey sweatshirt, his brown hair is tasseled like he'd been out in the wind and in his hands sits a tray filled with different fruits and pastries.

Upon seeing her distraught appearance Clarke can see pink bloom across his cheeks as he rubs the back of his neck with one hand.

"Octavia told me you'd barely touched your food at dinner so I...ah brought you some."

Bellamy says awkwardly as he places the tray on Clarke's bed.

"Thank you." Clarke steps further into the room so her and Bellamy are only a few feet apart.

"Look I'm sorry about earlier, I just lost my temper."

Clarke nods her head in agreement.

"You were right before. I'm going into these games and if I want to survive I'm going to need to know how to fight and how to kill."

Bellamy let's out a sigh, "Good, so if your willing to try can we start over?"

For the first time Clarke gives him a slight smile.

"It's nice to meet you Bellamy I'm Clarke." She holds out her hand to him.

Bellamy shakes her hand in return, "Clarke." His lips curl slightly as he says it, and for some reason she can't look away from them.

"I can help you with learning how to fight. I promise to get you back home."

Clarke turns her eyes to the floor; _he shouldn't make promises he can't keep._

"You don't owe me anything Bellamy."

"I'm not doing this because I owe you."

Clarke looks up to meet his eyes, "Then why?"

"Because you have a future, you have a chance to be someone back in district four. You can help people you can save lives. Snow and these stupid games don't get to take that away from you, at least not on my watch."

He leaves after that, saying they'll talk tomorrow about strategies after the tribute parade. For the first time since the reaping Clarke allows herself to hope because with Bellamy Blake on her side she might actually stand a decent chance. When sleep finally does find Clarke that night she dreams of freckles and constellations.

_"What a stupid lamb."_

_"What a sick, masochistic lion."_


	2. Sirens Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke attends the tribute parade and Bellamy receives a letter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so I'm back! The quote at the beginning and the end are lines from Edgar Allen Poe's poem Annabel Lee. Tell me what you think of this new chapter!

_In a kingdom by the sea,_

_That a maiden there lived whom you may know_

_And this maiden she lived with no other thought_

_Than to love and be loved by me._

Clarke huffed in annoyance she had been plucked, buffed, shaved, waxed, scrubbed, and glossed multiple times in the last few hours. Her crazy cat eared stylist still seemed unconvinced that every single hair had been pulled from her body. The stylist had clear whiskers sticking from her cheeks and looked like she'd had multiple surgeries to form her nose to that of the shape of a cat. Her eyes are what frightened Clarke the most, they seemed to glow in the bright white lights of her prepping station, and the irises had been reformed and stretched to model that of a cats. Her blank stare and inquisitive glances proved to only drive Clarke more on edge. Being unable to properly look at the bizarre woman in the eye, Clarke instead focused on her hands, whose nails had been filed into sharp points like the talons of a cat. Her name was Tigris- Clarke doubted that was her true name, but it definitely suited the woman.

Tigris offered no small talk or excited babbling that Clarke's other stylist had, they each had curled pastel colored hair pilled high on top of their heads. They reminded Clarke of the colorful pastries she had often seen piled up at the front of the bakery windows back in District Four with their overly poofy dresses, both with colors that matched their excessive amounts of hair and their perfectly glossed skin. Their names were Sherbet and Éclair in Clarkes mind she hadn't been listening when they had exclaimed excitedly their own names in the annoying chipper capital accent everyone had here. Sherbet had orange and pink hair and her twin Éclair had green and purple adorning her head. Clarke could barely stand to look at either of them for longer than a few seconds before the colors consumed her vision. It was all a bit distracting if she was honest.

Clarke worked on letting their voices drain into the back of her mind as they continued to work on her body to bring it up to capital perfection. Soon they had all filed out of the room saying her stylist would be in soon with her dress for the parade.

"Isn't it so exciting?" Sherbet had exclaimed, she was practically vibrating with the effort to keep herself still as she pulled the last wax strip from Clarke's leg.

Her twin had nodded along in agreement looking just as marry as her sister had. They bounced out the door their chipper voices following them down the hall. Tigris left next, saying she'd be back later too help with her makeup. She filed out of the room without as much as a sound the shutting door echoing behind her, _silent as a predator stalking her prey,_ Clarke thought.

It was a few minutes later when her door opened again. A small girl entered, Clarke wouldn't call her a woman she looked to be barely older than Clarke herself. The girl was the most normal looking capital citizen Clarke had come across since her arrival earlier this morning.

The girl introduced herself as Glass. She had her blonde hair plaited down her back; it was much lighter than Clarke's, almost white compared to Clarke's golden honey colour. Clarke thought it could glow in the moonlight. Glass's eyes were an almost turquoise blue, probably artificially enhanced by the Capitals surgeons. They reminded Clarke of the colour of the waters of the cave pools found hidden in the rocky coast of District Four, she had often visited them as a child and dreamed of painting them one day.

Glass worked as quietly as Tigris, her small pale fingers weaving nimble little braids into Clarke's hair. She worked swiftly leaving no piece of hair out of place. It felt like hours when Glass finally turned Clarke around so that she could see herself in the mirror.

Clarke gasped taking herself in. She looked beautiful. Glass had weaved tiny shells and sea glass in amongst the delicate braids. She had pulled part of Clarke's hair into a small fishtail braid down her back and brushed out the rest to form soft curls. The seas glass and shells reminded Clarke of the beaches of District Four, if she closed her eyes and concentrated she could almost smell salt in the air.

"Now for the finishing touch." Glass's soft voice broke the silence. She reached behind her and placed something carefully onto the top of Clarke's head securing it in her curls.

It was a crown was made of the finest silver Clarke had ever seen and decorated with tiny little sea glass jewels. She looked like a princess or a sea queen.

Glass helped Clarke to her feet and into a dress she had designed for the parade. The fabric felt soft and silky against Clarke's skin. Glass spun Clarke around and told her to look up. Clarke was standing in front of a full body mirror but she barely recognized herself. The dress was a silvery blue base colour to match her crown. It had tiny shells and more sea glass woven into the fabric; Clarke had never seen anything like it before. The dresses sleeves fell off Clarke's shoulders and cascaded down her arm like tide pool ripples. The main body of the dress had a tight bodice hugging curves Clarke had never seen before, while the bottom half fell to the floor looking like the cress of a wave.

"This is beautiful." Clarke looked astonished when she spoke the compliment to Glass.

"Thank you," Glass looked down at the ground, "It was inspired by your mentor Bellamy."

"What?" Clarke turned her eyes from the mirror to Glass who looked a bit embarrassed.

"Yes he told me about the legend of the sea goddess Ursula. Have you heard it?" Clarke nodded her head.

Everyone in her district knew the story it was a sort of morbid bedtime tale for children. Clarke's own mother had once told her the tale to scare her from swimming in the ocean alone.

The tale goes that Ursula the sea goddess once fell in love with a mortal fisherman but he only pretended to love her back. One night she discovered him with another secret lover, in her anger she unleashed an all powerful sea storm that ravaged the land for 10 whole days. It was so strong that even whole cities were destroyed. Once the storm had ended Ursula felt remorse for the innocent lives drowned in her anger so she took their bodies and made them into the first mermaids and mermen so that they could live forever under the sea in the hopes that she might never be lonely again. She made their voices so lovely that when they sang they could make mortals lose their minds. Now the legend goes that if a mortal who has been unfaithful enters the ocean weather by foot or by boat she will send her sirens to sing their deadly song and sink the boat to the bottom of the ocean to avenge their scorned lovers. Should an innocent ever be drowned Ursula will save their soul and turn them into one of her sirens so they may forever serve her. The last part had always scared Clarke as a child.

Glass gave Clarke a small smile eagerly eyeing her work in the mirror, "It's incredible isn't?" Clarke didn't know if she was referring to the dress or the story itself.

*******

Clarke rounded the corner in her parade dress making Bellamy's breath catch in his throat. But it was the scowl on her face when she saw him that made him smirk back at her. Clearly she wasn't very impressed with the idea.

Clarke grabbed him by the front of his shirt dragging him out of earshot of Annora or her prep team all of which Bellamy had heard them fussing over her makeup all the way down the hall.

"Why did you tell Glass that morbid story about Ursula? It's just a legend."

"Don't tell me you don't believe in legends princess," he smirked at her.

"I'm not playing games Bellamy this is my life!" Bellamy could see the fear behind her eyes.

"Oh but you are playing a game Clarke. The games begin the moment you are reaped not just when you enter the arena. That crowd out there is filled with sponsors who are going to send me money to keep your sorry ass alive in the arena. You need to make an impression."

"So parading around in a fictional sea queen costume is going to do that?"

"No Ursula was strong and powerful and most importantly _lethal._ I need you to be all those things if I'm going to get you out of this alive. I told the story to Glass so you would look the part, princess."

Clarke only gaped at him so Bellamy continued; "Now I need you to act the part. I need you to stand next to Finn on that chariot without complaint. I need you to keep your head held high like you did at the reaping. I need you to be the brave princess Panam saw when your name was called. Can you do that Clarke?"

Clarke nodded her face had gone stony as he finished his speech.

"Good." He sent her back over to the chariot where Annora was gesturing widely as all the other tribute were already on the back of theirs.

_Here was go,_ Bellamy thought, as the chariots pulled out of the loading area and the crowd outside erupted into cheers upon seeing them. Bellamy stood next to Octavia and watched from the monitors as Clarke did just as she was told. She held her head high and smiled proudly at a passing camera. Finn with all of his bravado did the same, and Bellamy let out a nervous sigh for now everything was working out.

Someone tapped Bellamy on the shoulder, it was an Avox and based on the luxurious uniform she was wearing Bellamy could only assume she was one of Snow's. The Avox handed him a letter and left just as silently as she had appeared. The letter was written with expensive ink, it contained only a name, an address, and a time.

  
_**Cressida Fell. Cornell Street, apartment 401. 8:00pm.** _

When Bellamy looked up from the letter he caught Octavia giving him a sad look, she gave his arm a small reassuring squeeze. Bellamy checked his watch; it was ten to 8 he had to leave now in order to not be late. He gave one last hopeful glance at the monitor as Clarke and Finn's chariot came to a stop in front of President Snow's podium; Clarke's confident expression never wavered for a second. _The brave princess,_ he thought before walking away.

*******

Clarke sat on the round living room couch in the overly luxurious apartment for District Four. Everyone else had gone to bed hours ago, Octavia had been the last up, watching re-runs of the tribute parade with Caesar Flickerman's bright blue hair and loud laugh commenting on every detail. Eventually the brown haired girl had given up and gone to bed as well.

Clarke sat alone on the couch blue fur blanket pooled around her waist as Caesar went into aggravating detail over every little stitch of her parade dress. It was strange to hear herself being talked about on TV. She felt distant form the whole thing, yes she had worn the dress and yes she had looked beautiful but it hadn't been her- at least not the real her. This was who Glass had turned her into, the person Bellamy had told her stylist to make her look like.

_Bellamy._ Her thoughts had spiraled around him for the last several hours. He hadn't been there when she got off the chariot. She had eagerly looked for him in the crowd waiting for the inevitable, "well done princess." Yet she couldn't find his face in the rush of mentors and stylists. He wasn't anywhere.

When she had asked Octavia as Annora herded them all into an elevator the girl had only offered a shake of her head and a quick comment.

"Bellamy had business he had to do, he'll be back later tonight." Than that was it. No other comments on what the elusive business was or why it was so important.

Clarke had wondered all through dinner and than anxiously eyed the door while everyone watched the parade after their meal. Still he hadn't come back. Now it was passed three in the morning and still he hadn't returned. It bothered Clarke her annoyance over Bellamy's disappearance making her unable to fall asleep. He spoke of trying to get her back home yet he disappeared when they needed to talk strategies about tomorrow? Clarke balled her hands into fists of the fur blanket. _Where was he?_

The program had switched to re-runs of the tribute reaping when the apartment door suddenly swung open and Bellamy Blake stumbled tiredly through. Clarke snapped her head around to look at him. His hair looked disheveled like someone had run their hands through it too many times. His grey button down shirt was wrinkled and hung off of him haphazardly almost like he'd thrown it on in a rush.

Upon seeing Clarke on the couch he made his way over to her. Something was off about him Clarke could tell as much. He wasn't the arrogant confident victor he'd been on the train or telling her off about her dress. He seemed different, his eyes didn't hold their mirthful lightness instead it was like darkness had seeped through at the corners overtaking some of the light.

Once he'd taken a seat to Clarke's right on the couch the smell hit her. It was sickly sweet with an over powering fruity scent. Why was he covered in women's perfume? Clarke wanted to ask him, she wanted to scream at him about weather it was really nessicary for him to screw his Capital girlfriend while she was preparing for a fight to the death? But she didn't the words died in her throat before she could even open her mouth. Neither spoke for a while, both looking straight ahead neither willing to shatter the silence that had formed between them.

Eventually Bellamy spoke, "You should get some sleep."

Clarke wanted to make a sarcastic comment but something in his voice when he spoke had told her not too.

Clarke nodded along, "You should sleep too."

Bellamy didn't give any indication that he had heard her, so Clarke got up and went to bed anyway. Bellamy wasn't her problem she shouldn't care weather he slept or not. But some part of her did, some small part cared for Bellamy Blake. It was that same part that had kept her up all night waiting for him.

As Clarke laid in bed she pretended she hadn't smelt that perfume wafting off of him, for some reason the lie made it easier for her to sleep.

_I was a child and she was a child,_

_In this kingdom by the sea,_

_But we loved with a love that was more than love_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did add Tigris into the story and for those of you who have read the 100 book series by Kass Morgan know I also added in Glass. I wish she and Luke had been included in the TV show! Please leave a comment/ kudos/ review thanks! -AM


	3. Serpents and Flowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We found out where Bellamy goes and what he must really do when Snow delivers him a letter. Clarke has her first day of training

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so here's a minor spoiler: there are a couple cute Bellarke scenes in this chapter so look out of those:)

_Once there was a boy._

_His father gave him a falcon to train,_

_Once trained he showed the bird to his father._

_Instead his father took the bird, now tame and trusting,_

_In his hands and broke its neck._

_'I told you to make it obedient,' his father said,_

_And dropped the falcon's lifeless body to the ground._

_'Instead, you taught it to love you.'_

_'This bird was not tamed; it was broken.'_

Clarke and Bellamy were the first up the next morning despite their late night. Clarke ran a hand through her curly hair, which had really turned into a bird's nest over night; Bellamy found his eyes attached to the motion he couldn't look away from her fingers. He knew he looked just as disheveled as her. His brown waves stuck up in all directions as he ran his hands through them again.

Bellamy poured two cups of coffee, and handed one to her. Clarke looked down at the black liquid with distaste; she'd never had the drink before. Bellamy laughed at her.

"Clarke just try it."

Clarke looked up at him almost startled, "You called me Clarke."

Bellamy looked down at his feet while rubbing the back of his neck, "Yeah I guess I did."

Bellamy hoped Clarke pretended she didn't see the faint blush rise on his cheeks. She cautiously brought the black steaming liquid up to her mouth and took the smallest of sips. She instantly recoiled at the bitter taste, placing the mug back onto the table.

The look on her face being too much for him as Bellamy try's in vain to stifle his laughs. Clarke stares at him for a second before she lets out a snort and joins him. It feels so good, he thinks, to laugh like this. Just to laugh and not care. Bellamy's face has turned red and he thinks hers probably has too but he doesn't care. Clarke has tears in her eyes and still she can't stop, Bellamy's whooping laughs fueling hers.

It's only after they've stopped and their breaths back to normal when Bellamy tells her, "I was going to say you should add sugar."

"You knew?" Bellamy rubbed the back of his neck again, this stupid smirk playing on his face.

"You jerk." Clarke laughs as she punches his shoulder with her fist. Bellamy laughs with her.

That's how Octavia finds the two, both red faced and giggling. She raises her eyebrow at her brother. Bellamy coughs in response trying to cover up his laugh.

Finn walks into the room a few minutes later giving Clarke and Bellamy strange looks as he piles food onto his plate. Octavia goes over what's going to happen today while everyone eats.

Bellamy followed Clarke into her room. Clarke turned around eyebrow raised when she took Bellamy in. His light demeanor had changed; his eyes and stance read all business when he spoke to her.

"Today is the first day of training, this is when you'll first meet all the other tributes."

Clarke's hands shook slightly when she spoke, "I know."

"Ok so I want you to stay away from any weapons stations. Stay by the edible plants or fire making stations."

Clarke folded her arms over her chest, an act Bellamy tried very hard to ignore.

"I'm not useless Bellamy, I know how to make fishing hooks and nets and set traps."

"Exactly Clarke! I need you to stay under the radar. Look weak and people will think your weak, than you won't be a target. Besides you still don't even know how to handle a knife you'd just embarrass yourself."

Clarke's eyebrows knitted together a sure sign he'd pissed her off.

"Bellamy I don't want to be looked at like I'm dirt on the bottom of someone's shoe."

Bellamy sighed, "Clarke who we are and who we have to be to survive are two very different things. You need to look weak so you can disappear that way the careers won't be gunning for you."

Clarke looked down at her shoes, but Bellamy desperately needed to see her eyes, he needed to know that she was with him-that she understood.

Bellamy cautiously wrapped his fingers under her chin bringing it up so that their gazes were locked on each other's. They stared at each other for a long time before Clarke spoke.

"Ok I get it, look like the delicate flower but be the serpent underneath it right?"

Bellamy let out a relieved breath, "Yes exactly."

"Oh and Clarke?', Bellamy called her name over his shoulder.

"Yes?" She turned from her spot in front of the mirror to look at him.

"Don't talk to anyone, and don't make friends."

*******

Clarke took another deep breath before the elevator doors pinged open. _Here we go._ She walked in cautiously surveying the others. Finn had already started mingling in the crowd, she could see the number four of the back of his training suit as he stood in the center of a circle of careers from Districts 1 and 2. _Clearly he had his own agenda when it came to allies._

Clarke went straight to the Earth Skills station and busied herself with weaving a net out of long blades of grass. This calmed her and reminded her of back home. Her father was a fisherman, she used to sit on the breath with him and weave nets for hours. He would tell her stories and myths about the sea, about mermaids and monsters. Her father was always the best at story telling, being able to do different accents for different characters always made her laugh as a kid. But now... now she purposely blocked him out of her mind.

Clarke had just finished a second fishing net when a boy walked up next to her. Clarke could see the number 8 stitched into his armband, _Murphy from district 8._

"Well I guess the princess isn't all looks, there's some brains in that pretty little head of yours too."

Clarke glared at the boy. Murphy had greasy looking hair that gave him an unhinged look. She didn't like him, and she definitely didn't like standing this close to him. The way his eyes slid over her figure left her feeling naked and afraid. Clarke wanted to scream she wanted to push him away.

"Leave her alone Murphy no one wants you here, go annoy someone else."

A dark skinned boy with kind eyes stood across the table from her. He barely looked up from the basket he was weaving, or trying to weave, as he spoke. Murphy glared at the boy.

"Don't worry Jaha I'll be coming for you next." Murphy's voice had lowered an octave; it had a sinister and cruel tone to it.

The other boy only rolled his eyes in response as Murphy moved onto the fire-starting station. Clarke knows Bellamy had wanted her to keep a low profile. His advice rang through her head, "Don't talk to anyone, and don't make friends." And still she couldn't help herself.

"I'm Clarke Griffin." She stuck her hand out to the boy.

"Wells Jaha District 3." Wells shook her hand and than went back to his poor attempt at a basket.

"Here like this," Clarke said as she reached across the table and demonstrated the right way to weave the grass blade together.

"Thanks, you're good at that."

Clarke shrugged in response, "Just something my father taught me."

Clarke smiled to herself, Wells wasn't that bad. They spent the day moving from station to station together. She learned that his father was the mayor of his district as well. They complained about having to go to all these political parties for their parents, and laughed about different politicians they'd both met. By the end of the day Clarke was feeling pretty good, well as good as someone who was entered into a game meant to kill her could feel.

*******

Bellamy knocked on the apartment door two times before a women answered. She had pale skin with white crystal glowing just under the surface, her red hair had been let down in flowing waves and she wore the ugliest dress Bellamy had ever seen. It was green to match her colored contacts and stuck out at odd angles from her body. She looked like a pointed geometric shape he'd learned about in math class. The women's name was Cressida Fell and she'd booked another 'session' with him since she'd been so pleased with the last one. Bellamy hated himself for it he had agonized over coming here. But he had to; he had to do what Snow told him to.

"Well come in!" Cressida grabbed the front of his shirt pulling him through the entranceway. He gave her a confident smirk.

"In a hurry to get started are we?" His voice was low and husky dripping with sex appeal.

Cressida giggled while she pulled him into the bedroom. Her back was to him as he came up behind her and started sucking kisses down her neck.

"Wait! Wait." Cressida turned around to look at him.

"I have a surprise for you," She spoke as she pushed him onto the bed. He was about to grab at her dress when she leapt out of his grip and into the adjoining bathroom.

"I'll be right back."

Bellamy huffed in annoyance; he'd wanted to get this over with so that he'd be back once Clarke had finished her training. He needed to go over future strategies and start knife training with her. Twenty minutes passed before the bathroom door opened again and the sight made Bellamy's mouth drop open.

Standing in front of him was Clarke- except that it wasn't her. Bellamy leaped off the bed, his back pressed up again the bedroom door. Cressida had put on a blonde wig to model Clarke's curls and braid from the reaping. She'd also taken out the green contacts and opted for blue ones to match Clarke's eyes. And to top the whole look off she wore a replica of the blue dress Clarke had worn when her name was called. Bellamy took a staggering breath, he couldn't fill his lungs with air-this was all too much for him.

Cressida walked up to him and pressed her hands against his chest, "Do you like it?" Bellamy's hands were shaking.

"Bellamy is everything okay?" Cressida took a small step back from him, her eyebrows knitted together and Bellamy suddenly thought of how Clarke did the same thing.

"N-no."

Bellamy tried to look anywhere else he couldn't focus on Cressida-he couldn't. She looked too much like Clarke- too much like the girl he couldn't have.

Cressida pouted sticking out her bottom lip at him, the sight made Bellamy want to vomit.

"This is what we do here in the Capital, we dress up to fulfill a fantasy for the other person." She was still had that stupid pout on her lips leaving Bellamy feeling annoyance boiling up under his skin.

"W-what fantasy." Bellamy was still having a hard time controlling his breathing.

Cressida gave him a coy smile, "Oh come on Bellamy you could barely keep your eyes off her at the reaping. Plus I've heard rumors."

She took a step closer to him again; he could smell her overly fruity perfume making him want to cover his nose.

"I thought this would be fun for both of us." Her lips had turned down as she spoke her tone now conveyed mild displeasure. Bellamy knew he had to change that, if word got back to Snow that he had been less than enthusiastic with one of his clients Bellamy really didn't want to know the consequences.

Bellamy smirked at her again stepping into her space as he pulled the blonde wig from her hair, "I do want to have fun, but without this costume. I just want you."

God he felt so sick saying that but it made Cressida smile again as she looked up at him through her fake eyelashes. She fell back onto the bed one strap of the dress falling off her shoulder. Her eyes had turned dark and hungry. Bellamy took a deep breath before following her onto the bed, and letting her pull at his clothes and kiss his skin. Her touches felt like acid had been poured on his body, he wanted to be very far away, he wanted to be 14 again before the games-before he was a victor. Hopefully Cressida would give him a good review to Snow and than he'd get a few days off to help train Clarke.

Bellamy made it back to the apartment with fifteen minutes to spare. In that time he took a long hot shower trying to scrub the events of the last few hours off of his skin. He turned the water all the way up letting it sizzle against his skin turning it red and raw. He scrubbed with soap until his body throbbed and still he didn't feel entirely clean. _This is what I deserve,_ he thought, _this is the fate a killer deserves._

*******

Bellamy arrived at the table just as they all sat down. His hair was wet and tussled like he'd just stepped out of a shower. Little droplets of water still hung onto some of the tips of his hair. Clarke wanted to brush them away with her fingers. Bellamy looked up and held her stare Clarke felt a blush creep up onto her face.

Bellamy broke first turning his head to listen to Finn, "What?"

Finn had been talking about training today but Clarke had barely been paying attention.

"Yeah I was saying that Clarke made a friend today too."

Everyone at the table turned to look at her, Bellamy's gaze was accusing and tight. She would hear it from him later that she knew.

"Um yeah just the boy from District 3, I helped him weave a basket from grass blades."

Everyone turned back to their meals as Finn continued giving in detail his day with the careers and how he thought for sure they'd ask to be in an alliance with him. Bellamy kept his stare on Clarke; she could feel him boring a hole into the front of her head although she refused to look up from her plate.

After dinner Bellamy avoided her. She went to sit in the TV room and he'd get up off the couch to leave. She went to grab and extra pastry and he'd make sure he was at the other end of the table. It was like a game of him running away from her. Finally by the end of the night Clarke had had enough, when she saw Bellamy head down the hallway to him room she followed after him. He walked through the sliding door to his room and she made sure to slam it behind her as she entered.

Bellamy spun around looking surprised but not startled, Clarke put her hands on her hips. She had had just about enough of his games. The two stood off in silence.

Clarke through her hands up in the air, "God Bellamy would you just yell at me and get it over with! I'm done with you avoiding me."

Bellamy looked away from her, his hands clenched at his sides, "I don't know what you're talking about."

Clarke rolled her eyes at him, honestly sometimes he acted like a five year old.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about, you've been off since Finn made that comment at dinner. So come out and say it! Say what's bothering you."

The knuckles on Bellamy's hands had gone white, he'd been clenching them too hard, "Fine! You want to know what's bothering me? Well princess you directly didn't follow my rule. Don't. Make. Friends. Period."

Clarke scoffed at him, "What's wrong with me making an ally? I thought that would be a good thing."

Bellamy let out an exasperated sigh that made her feel like she was an annoying child he had to teach. 

"Finn didn't say ally he said _friend._ There is a big difference between being friends in the arena and being allies."

Clarke crossed her arms over her chest waiting for him to continue.

"An ally is someone you're with out of connivance, to help keep you safe until the time comes to break apart. When you have an ally you have to be able to accept the fact that you may have to kill them or they may try to kill you. If you have a friend in the games you'll never be able to do that, you'll trust them too hard and get too attached. Killing them will destroy you."

Bellamy had lost all his fight and anger by the end of his speech. He'd deflated onto his bed by the time he finished. Clarke had the sneaking suspicion that he was talking from experience; she took a seat next to him.

"Did that happen to you in your games?"

Clarke tried to remember Bellamy's games; all she could see was his trident and his sword cutting through kids' hearts. She tried to remember if he'd had an ally or a friend. Bellamy answered the question for her.

"There names were Monroe and Sterling, both from District 5. They were both very strong and loyal. From the first day of training we'd stuck by each other. In the games we watched each other's backs. But you can never protect people in the games. Never."

He held his hands in his lap; they'd started shaking as he took another uneven breath. Clarke covered them with her own trying to stop the trembling. She doesn't think he's ever let someone in or talked about them. Bellamy gave her a small smile before he continued.

"Sterling died first. There was an avalanche he was standing too close to the edge of the cliff. I lunged and grabbed the front of his shirt, but it ripped and he fell. It was my fault I couldn't save him. After that Monroe and I were careful, but there was a game maker trap. I'd told her to get some berries and I turned my back. When I looked back she was suffocating in a patch toxic gas that had been released. If I'd just been more carful. If only I'd seen the signs she might have lived."

Bellamy whispered the words by the end, Clarke could hear so much pain in his voice, it made her feel hollow sitting next to him.

Bellamy looked down at her their gazes locking; "Don't make friends in the games Clarke. You can't protect them-you can't protect anyone. They'll hurt you-their deaths-all they do is hurt you."

His eyes were so sad and painful Clarke was suddenly reminded of how much he'd changed from that lost 14 year old she'd known in the hallways at school. He was a far cry from the boy she remembered. _That boy is gone,_ she thought, _the games killed him._

_And the boy never cried again,_

_And he never forgot what he'd learned:_

_That to love is to destroy, and that to be loved is to be the one destroyed._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The quote is from Jace Hernondale in City of Bones By Cassandra Clarke. I had to shorten it because it would've been way to long to add the entire thing. There is also a shakespeare quote hidden in one of the dialogue scenes props to anyone who can find it. Please leave a kudos/ comment/ review!


	4. Two Sugar Cubes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy teaches Clarke how to throw knives, and Clarke is judged by the game makers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey sorry this chapter is a little shorter, I promise the next one will be longer. I hope you all like the Bellarke cuteness I added into this chapter!

_"I don't know what I want."_

_"That's not true, you want what everybody wants."_

_"What? Mysterious stranger who has all the answers."_

_"You want a love that consumes you. You want passion and adventure, and even a little danger."_

Bellamy took a deep breath, "Ok try again."

Clarke got back into her stance as Bellamy surveyed her silently checking and correcting her position. _She has to get this_ , he thought, _she has to or she'll never stand a chance._

Bellamy had set up a sort of target across the apartment. Him and Clarke stood by the door, across the apartment on a chair leaning up against the furthest most wall was a pillow. Clarke took aim again, butter knife posed shakily in her hand. The knife sailed through the air and crashed to the ground feet from the chair skidding to a stop against one of the chairs legs.

Octavia looked over from her seat on the round couch, giving Bellamy a pitying look. They had been at this for hours without any results.

Clarke sighed, "Come on Bell let's just face it I'm horrible at knife throwing."

Bellamy ran a hand through his hair, "No you aren't. Maybe you just need to see me do it again?" He picked up another butter knife from the dining table, Bellamy had had plates of them brought up to the apartment they now littered the floor across the room.

His stance was perfectly balanced. He took a deep breath, trying to concentrate with Clarke's probing stare, and brought his hand back behind his head. He let the knife fly silently as it sliced through the air; it made a deep thudding sound as it connected with the pillow on the chair. Clarke didn't seem impressed just annoyed that he'd hit the target. He gave her a proud smirk from which she promptly rolled her eyes and got back into her stance.

"No not like that."

Bellamy came up behind Clarke wrapping his arms around her, his back pressed up against hers. Clarke sucked in a breath when Bellamy's hands moved down to her sides straightening her back to model his. He felt her tense as he rolled their hips together.

"Do you feel that?" His voice was a whisper in her ear.

Clarke nodded Bellamy pretended he didn't see the slight blush that works its way up her neck and cheeks.

"Good, that's how the stance should feel." He moved his hands back up to her arms pulling one back into the correct position and holding one out in front of her for balance. Clarke's hair tickled Bellamy's neck as he bent down by her ear to speak.

"Ok now focus in on the target, eye the pillow. Your knife will fly where you look so it's very important to stay focused." Clarke shivered when his lips brushed her ear.

"Now when I tell you I want you to release the knife. Don't take your eyes off the target."

Clarke's coconut shampoo was infiltrating his carefully calculated focus Bellamy thought if he stayed this close to her for much longer he might do something he'll greatly regret. Bellamy could feel Clarkes every intake and exhale of breath against his chest, he wanted to keep her there safe and sound against him, he wanted to hold her and never let go.

"Now." Bellamy released Clarke's arms and stepped back just as she let the knife fly over her head. He held his breath hoping this worked.

A second later there was the thud of the knife hitting the pillow, and than the ripping sound of fabric as the knife not only hit the target but actually flew through the pillow and the chair sticking into the wall behind it.

Bellamy had a second to take in everything, Octavia's frantic clapping and Annora's horrified looks, before Clarke's arms wound themselves around his neck. She held herself against him her head tucked into the crook of his neck. Bellamy brought his arms up and pulled her even closer. They were both laughing as Bellamy lifted Clarke slightly into the air spinning her around, he could feel her surprised squeal against his neck he couldn't stop the goofy smile from spreading across his face. As Bellamy set her back gently on the ground she rose onto her toes bringing her face impossibly close to his.

"Thank you." Her breath ghosted over his lips. He wanted to press his lips against hers, he wanted to catch that breath between them their lips, he wanted to kiss her until she moaned his name, he wanted-

Clarke was tackled from behind by Octavia who hugged the other girl breaking their shared moment. Clarke was high in spirits the rest of the night throwing knife after knife into the pillow effectually destroying the poor silk thing to Annora's horror. "That was cashmere!" She had shrieked when she got an eyeful of the destroyed fabric. Bellamy laughed along with Clarke who threw another knife regardless, he didn't see Octavia's proud smirk as she watched her brother watch Clarke. He didn't see as she brought her hands together happily, or the tiny little smirk that worked its way onto her face.

*******

_Breath Clarke, breathe._ Her hands had started to sweat as she wiped them on her pant legs, the training suit fabric sucking up the extra moisture. This was it; she was about to be judged. Clarke looked to her left to where Finn had sat just minutes ago, he'd been called in first. She couldn't escape the dread that had curled into her stomach the moment he'd stood up, the words _I'm next_ set off alarms in her head.

Clarke took another shaky breath closing her eyes and bowing her head. She tried to think about what Bellamy had told her on the way down in the elevator. It had been just the two of them, they had had singular training earlier that morning. He'd taught her how to throw with two knives instead of one.

"Ready to be a badass Clarke?" He had said with that endearing little smirk on his face. Clarke wasn't really sure when his smirks had turned from something she loathed to something she found herself blushing over. But they had.

He'd come up behind her again, showing her the proper position, his hands moving down her sides to her hip and than up again to guide her arms. Clarke closed her eyes.

Their closeness had only intensified since the first knife throwing incident four days prior. Clarke had noticed their relationship shift as well. No longer were they fighting but actually listening to each other. Almost overnight he had gone from Bellamy to Bell, like a switch being flipped she was inevitably aware of his every move, every sound, every touch.

Bellamy himself had shifted closer to her as well. Clarke had noticed when they walked together now he was always right by her shoulder his arms occasionally brushing against hers. When they watched TV he always came and sat next to her even if there was an open spot at the other end of the couch. When they ate dinner he sat right across the table from her, their hands brushing each other's as they reached for their food. She'd noticed that he always made a second cup of coffee for her in the morning, and he always made sure to drop two sugar cubes into it. It was in the way they spoke too that had changed, when he said her name it was like he was caressing every syllable. She couldn't resist him, she couldn't not look at him when his voice sounded like that.

"Clarke Griffin, District 4. Please proceed down the hall." A monocratic voice over the loud speaker echoed through the room.

Clarke opened her eyes and stood up, her legs felt like jelly as she walked down the hall. Clarke took another deep breath as two peacekeepers ushered her inside a nondescript door. She could see the panel of game makers across the room on a raised platform, they all stood from their seats when she entered.

"You will have ten minutes to demonstrate to us your chosen skill." A man with blazing red hair and a very ugly suit said to her.

Clarke nodded at him in acknowledgment. She went to the trap station first making a fishing net in record time. This let her relax a little she could breath normally again. When her net was finished she stepped up to the station she had been dreading the most, _the knife throwing station._ She could feel all the game makers eyes on her back, _they're sizing you up_ she told herself.

Clarke picked up two lightweight knives, one for each hand. Getting into position she eyed the target ten meters from where she stood. Closing her eyes and taking deep breaths she tried to calm herself. _You can do this,_ she told herself, _you must do this._ Clarke thought of Bellamy she focused on his arms and how they'd felt when he'd wrapped them around her. She thought of the heat that spread over her skin where his hands made contact, and the blazing heat in his eyes when she'd first hugged him. She thought of his laugh and his hand when he ran it through hi hair.

Clarke opened her eyes and let the knife fly.

*******

Bellamy sat very tense on the couch as the capital emblem appeared on the screen. _This is it._ Caesar Flickerman appeared on the screen his blue hair and eyebrows catching the attention of everyone in the room. Bellamy glanced to his left at Clarke who was wringing her hands through the fur blanket again. She looked just as tense and nervous as he felt. On the other side of the couch Finn, as usual, looked perfectly at ease leaning against the back of the couch like he owned it. Bellamy looked back down at Clarke's hands as she white knuckled the fur blanket.

Caesar had moved from District 2 to District 3. They were next. Without giving it much thought Bellamy reached over across the space between him and Clarke, and pulled her left hand from the blanket with his right. He laced their fingers together just as Finns face appeared on the screen.

The whole room held their breaths as a number 9 flashed up on the screen. The room applauded Finn who looked like he'd expected this entire thing, although he did seem rather pleased when Octavia had risen from her seat to hug him. Bellamy hadn't moved a muscle, neither had Clarke, their eyes both glued to the screen as her face popped up.

"Clarke Griffin with a final score of-"

Bellamy sucked in a breath, he thought his lungs might constrict from the tension. His body sat ridged against the cushioned couch.

"Seven." Caesar smiled at the camera before moving onto the District 5 tributes.

Bellamy sat shell-shocked for a moment unable to move- to comprehend. Clarke let go of their joined hands and instead threw herself into him, his body shifting to the side by the force of her weight landing against him. Bellamy snapped back into action.

"I did it! We did it!" Clarke was practically screaming in his ear. Bellamy joined her, nodding his head at her.

He laughed when he saw tears pooling at the corners of Clarke's vision, "You did it princess! You really did it!"

The smile Clarke sends him would've sent him falling to his knees if he had been standing. He would've fought through another Hunger Games just to see her smile at him like that again. To let him see something so pure, and honest, and open on her face he'd have toppled down mountains.

_"So, Damon, what do you want?"_

_"I want you to get everything you're looking for."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The quote is a snippet from one of my favorite Delena quotes because lets be honest they are basically goals! :) Please leave a comment/ kudos/ review on how you liked this chapter and/ or how you like the story so far! Thanks -AM


	5. All Too Late

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke had her interview with Caesar and Bellamy must deal with sending Clarke off to the arena and his feelings about her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys so I just want to say sorry right off the bat because this chapter is WAY too late. I promise chapter 6 will be up must faster, I've just been screwed with midterms lately. Minor spoiler: this chapter will be sad by the end.

_It's been a long day without you, my friend_

_And I'll tell you all about it_

_When I see you again_

Bellamy stood on the outside of Clarke's dressing room, she was in there right now getting changed with Glass into her interview dress. Bellamy tried not to but he could hear them faintly through the door. He was leaning against the wall next to it, they'd been in there for hours. He'd finished up with his 'sessions' early with hopes of giving Clarke some last minute advice before she walked out onto the stage tonight, but she'd been sequestered in her dressing room with Glass. He was absolutely not allowed in there according to Annora. "That's a woman's dressing room Bellamy. Whatever mentor advice you have can wait," she'd said in her chipper capital accent before walking, or attempting to walk with her mile high heels on, down the hall.

So here Bellamy was leaning against a cold grey metallic wall and trying to block the girls voice from behind the door out of his mind. It had been working too that was until he heard his name. Than it was nearly impossible not to listen in.

"You're going to look gorgeous tonight!" A high excited voice had exclaimed, Bellamy assumed it was one of the stylist Clarke said she's named after pastry desserts, he couldn't imagine Glass ever being that excited about anything.

"Yes and I'm sure Bellamy will pay close attention to you." This voice had a more sinister intention. It set off alarms in Bellamy's head.

Strangely he wanted to know Clarke answer, he found himself leaning towards the door, his ears searching to pick up every little sound. Straining to hear her voice.

Chipper laughs echoed through the door, Bellamy could only assume was based on an unpleasant glare given by Clarke. He could almost picture her exact face in his mind. Her eyebrows would knit together and her eye would pin you with so much judgment you were likely to combust. Than her lips would curl down into a straight line and her lower lip would puff out slightly, than her cheeks would flush pink as she prepared to nail you with the spite of her words. Bellamy smiled slightly, his princess. 

"It's not like that, Bellamy wouldn't look at me any different in a dress than in sweatpants. He already pays close attention."

Bellamy had to catch himself from falling to the ground. That was not the answer he was expecting from her. The voices on the other side of the door had silenced. She couldn't- no it was impossible- Clarke couldn't under any circumstances feel anything for him. She was going into the hunger games to die. _Maybe that's the point,_ Bellamy thought, _she's going into a game designed to kill her maybe she just doesn't want any loose strings._

Bellamy sank down to the floor his head hitting against the cool metal. He was her loose string, the one person she couldn't knot up and tie off. The one person she couldn't say goodbye too, the person keeping her from giving up. Bellamy closed his eyes, he wasn't going to let her tie him up because the moment she did is the moment she'd stop fighting because to Clarke if she has no loose strings she has no reason to see anyone ever again- no reason to fight.

*******

Clarke wiped her hands against the side of her dress for the thousandth time since standing back stage. Her fingers grabbed onto the side of her dress like she had done at the reaping, trying to steal any comfort she can from the gesture.

Finn was onstage right now with Caesar looking strong and confident and completely controlling the crowd. They hung on his every word, laughing at his jokes and sighing when he mentioned District Four, he had some of them on the edge of tears. Clarke was jealous of him for that, she'd never been good with people or manipulation. She had always thought logically with her head, she didn't know how to think with her emotions or how to dictate another persons. _Less than a minute left,_ she could hear her heart hammering in her chest.

Finn lifted his hands as the crowd erupted, _thirty seconds left. Breath Clarke breathe,_ she told herself. But the panic was rising, hammering between her ribcage and up into her throat, she suddenly had the sense of her throat closing up and the air being sucked out of her lungs.

Than he was standing in front of her and pulling her into his arms without a single word spoken between the two. His arms felt like safety, like home.

"Breath Clarke."

He rubbed his hands up and down her back while she inhaled his scent, sweat and leather and cotton. Home. She focused on the warmth of his chest and the feel of his hands against the exposed skin on her back, he infiltrated her every sense, gradually her throat loosened and she was able to breathe normally again.

"Remember confidence is key, keep that pretty blond head up, don't look scared and don't look confused. Look calm and collected." He whispered gently against her ear. She nodded slightly not ready to move.

Suddenly Bellamy's arms were gone and she was being pushed up the ramp and onto the stage, caught like a deer in the headlights.

"Ah there she is! There's our own blonde princess." The crowd cheered her name as Caesar ushered her into a seat opposite him while Clarke tried not to stare at his orange eyebrows that matched his hair colour perfectly. Just out of the corner of her eye she could see Bellamy standing in the stage wings, watching her.

"Now you really do look lovely this evening. Doesn't she? Very regal."

Many members of the crowd cooed their agreements, as Clarke brushed out a wrinkle in her skirt. Glass had her in a blue evening gown with off the shoulder sleeves. The top of her dress was a lace see through design that was fitted to the waist, from there the dress fanned out in layers of fine blue silk. Glass had again woven a white and blue crown into Clarke's hair, which hung in wavy locks down her back. Clarke had to admit she felt like a princess, she thought that must have been what Bellamy was going for because again Glass had mentioned that he'd helped with the design.

Clarke tilted her chin up to stare even eyed at the camera, "Yes my stylists did an amazing job. The crown by far is my favorite." She reached up to tap lightly against the jewels.

Bellamy smiled encouragingly at her. _Well,_ she thought, _at least I've said one thing right._

Caesar raised his eyebrow at her, "Are you someone's princess at home as well?"

Clarke couldn't stop the blush that had appeared on her cheeks. There was only one boy who came to mind, one who she had no chance with.

Shaking her head slightly Clarke eyed her toes, "No I'm afraid I kind of flew under the radar when it came to boys back home."

Off to the side of the stage Clarke could see Bellamy purge his lips, like he was trying to figure something out.

Caesar crooked his head to the side at her, " Do you think that flying under the radar technique will help you in the games?"

Clarke let out a thankful breath, finally a subject her and Bellamy had practiced before.

"Yes most definitely, it will help me keep a target off my back so to speak." The audience laughed at her poor attempt at humor, Clarke's fingers shook slightly from where they gripped the fabric of her dress.

Clarke could see Bellamy nodding along to her answer, _maybe she could do this._ Caesar asked Clarke a few more questions about her strengths and her strategies going into the games, all the while Bellamy prompted her from back stage by tapping his chin or his lips or just simply nodding his head. They were warnings to get her to raise her chin or smile more at the camera. Clarke was sure the interview must be almost over when Caesar asked the next question.

"Well now that we've gone over your strategies for tomorrow, I've just got to ask the question we've all been _dying_ to know the answer too."

"Ask away Caesar." Back stage Bellamy's eyebrows had knitted together, whatever Caesar was about to ask he definitely hadn't anticipated it.

"What is it like to have the great Bellamy Blake as your mentor? I mean we've all heard the rumors, especially some rather scandalous ones involving you and him. But what is he really like?" Caesar raised his orange eyebrow at her, the act and the question causing Clarke to squirm slightly in her seat. The crowd hushed around them

She took a deep breath, "Bellamy's a bit of a celebrity back home in District Four so is his sister Octavia, and so I was a bit nervous about meeting him for the first time. Believe me we didn't agree on most things," The crowd laughed when Clarke rolled her eyes.

"But he really had a caring and strong heart. Once Bellamy Blake is on your side he'll stay there until the very end. I won't admit to any truth about the rumors involving him and I, but I can definitely say he is a person I trust completely."

Clarke said the last part not looking at Caesar or the camera, but locking her eyes with Bellamy who stood just out of view across the stage. He held her gaze unwaveringly, all strength and confidence. _Until the very end,_ she thought. Almost like he could read her mind, he mouthed those same words back to her. Clarke pretended she didn't feel her heart flutter at the sight.

*******

The elevator whirled up, it moved so fast Bellamy almost felt like they were flying. He had been dreading this very elevator ride for days now, sleepless nights and crude nightmares.

Clarke stood ridged next to him, her hair brushing his shoulder. _She looks like she hadn't slept in days,_ Bellamy thought. There were dark circles under her eyes, and her skin was far to pale. Bellamy was worried because she hadn't said anything all morning, just stared blankly out into space. He'd told her to go to bed early last night that she would need her sleep- it could be her last good sleep for days. But of course she hadn't listened to him. Bellamy couldn't blame her though, he remembers the night before his games, and how he couldn't close his eyes for even a second.

He reaches over slowly, keeping his head looking forward, and loops his fingers through hers. It's a small gesture but it's enough that some of the tension in Clarke's shoulders lessons. They don't look at each other and they don't speak, they just know.

The elevator comes to stop and the doors open letting bright sunlight infiltrate their tiny little space. Clarke's not moving so Bellamy pulls her through the door and out into the sun. He lets their hands drop, and still he can't look at her- he can't bear to see her face, knowing it could be for the last time.

Than Clarke turns to him and she looks into his eyes for the first time since last night. He lets her see everything, he bears his entire soul in his eyes and she does the same. Bellamy just knows without a hint of a doubt that he loves her and that she loves him, and that somehow in this tragic story they found each other all too late. He wants to cry, and combust on the spot, he wants to kill every peacekeeper; he wants to hold her in his arms and dare Snow to try and take her away from him. But most of all he wants her, every part of her. Weather they're fighting or laughing or touching or crying. He wants to experience every single piece that makes up Clarke; he wants to drown himself in her.

And Clarke without speaking wraps her arms around his neck and hold herself against him, he bends his head down so that it's sitting in the crook of her neck. He breaths in the scent of her hair and tries to memorize it in his head so that when he closes his eyes it'll be like she never left. He doesn't know when he started crying and he can't stop, he can feel the tiny drops of Clarke's tears against the fabric of his shirt as well. For some reason this hurts more. So Bellamy with out comprehending it himself begins to speak or rather whisper in her ear.

"In peace may you leave this shore," his voice is soft as he says the words to an old poem from District Four. It's something their people use to say goodbye.

"In love may you find the next," He feels Clarke exhale of breath as she speaks the next line to him.

"Safe passage on your travels," His voice sounds thick and heavy, he wants to hold onto her forever.

"Until our final journey to the ground," Clarke pulls her head back to look into his eyes when she speaks the words, like she'd searching for something and all too afraid to find it.

"May we meet again." Bellamy sucks in a breath, because this is the end she's really leaving.

"May we meet again." She echoes the words back at him; their sound resonates in the air around the couple. Bellamy can't breath, he can't think, he can't look away from her for fear that he will never see those eyes alive again.

Clarke rises onto the tops of her toes and plants a firm kiss on his cheek. She than slowly slides out of his arms and steps away. Bellamy doesn't protest, he lets his arms hang lifelessly by his sides as he watches her walk towards the hover craft that will take her into the arena. He doesn't blink once, his eyes following the head of blonde hair walk up the ramp into the hovercraft and out of sight.

Bellamy doesn't move as he watches the hovercraft fly into the air and out of his sight line. He stays standing on the roof trying to grasp at everything he just lost in an instant. Eventually it's Octavia who finds him and drags him back into the building. He tries not to think that he might have to watch her die in only a matter of hours.

_We've come a long way from where we began_

_Oh, I'll tell you all about it_

_When I see you again_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lyrics were from See You Again by Wiz Khalifa. Did anyone else like that I snuck in the May we meet again poem from the show? Please leave a comment/ kudos/ review on how you like the story so far and what you think/ want to happen next. Thanks again- AM


	6. Dragon Fire Veins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke prepares for her first step in the games. Bellamy turns to sexual advances to help Clarke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so I've been experiencing some internet troubles so you're just going to have to bear with me. Please enjoy -AM

_This is for monster girls_

_Who have no stars in their skin_

_Only fire and iron and scales_

Glass doesn't speak the whole time as she helps Clarke into the matching gear each tribute must wear. The material is skin tight and breathable, probably meant for a warmer climate or maybe even water. Clarke hopes the arena involves the later option being from District Four would give her a slight advantage. She is also given a type of rain jacket and slick watertight boots. Glass helps her zip up the front of the jacket because Clarke's fingers are shaking too badly to be much of any use.

Next Glass sits Clarke down on a chair and carefully braids her blonde hair back and out of her face. She lets the braid fall down Clarke's back once she is done. Clarke brings her fingers up to inspect Glass's work, her fingers lightly press against the tight weave of the braid coming to the realization that it's the same braid she had worn for her reaping. Clarke turns around to question Glass who was busy pulling something out of her pocket, she hands it to Clarke.

It's a bracelet made from fishing rope with blue sea glass weaved into it. From the detail of the weaving and the perfect placement of the sea glass Clarke could only assume it was done by someone who had practiced the art for years. _Someone from back home,_ she thought, _someone with patient hands._

"It's from Bellamy." Glass said, they were the first words she spoken aloud to Clarke all morning.

Clarke's fingers paused in their inspection of the sea glass when she heard Glass speak. _Bellamy made this for her?_ Clarke smiled down at the little bracelet, a small private smile. She imagined he was here to give it to her, she imagined that she'd rise onto her toes and kiss him – a proper kiss this time- as a thank you for the gift. She imagined that she'd pull back to see that sweet little blush ghost over his cheeks and make his freckles stand out more. Instead she shook her head slightly and held out her left wrist for Glass to clasp the bracelet around.

"It must have taken him quite awhile." Glass said when Clarke offered no words.

"It is beautiful." Clarke said finally, her fingers once again brushing lightly over the sea glass. _To remember,_ she thought, _he made this so she'd have a little piece of home with her- a little piece of him._

In her mind Clarke could see Bellamy crunched over a chair the small strands of rope in his hands. How he made tiny precise knots despite the size of his fingers, and how he'd be carful when weaving in the sea glass pieces because it had to be perfect for her. The mental image made Clarke want to cry all over again.

A stark beeping noise interrupted her thoughts. Clarke knew what that noise meant; she had 10 seconds to get into the glass tube that would send her up into the arena. With a final saddened look Glass ushered her over to the tube.

"Thank you." Clarke said, toeing the entrance to the glass cylinder.

Glass nodded her eyes suddenly turning stormy, "You show them what strength is. You show them how to be brave Clarke Griffin. You show them that a true princess has dragon fire in her veins."

Clarke was too shocked to speak; those were the most words Glass had ever said to her at once. They sounded like something Bellamy would have told her. So Clarke gave her head a firm nod and stepped into the tube, she tried to prepare herself for whatever fate lay above her. _Breath and be brave,_ Clarke thought, _breath and be brave._

The door to her tube sealed shut and began to rise steadily, Clarke's breathing became erratic as the ceiling of her tube opened and she found herself standing on a platform in the arena surrounded by water.

The countdown began as Clarke tried to figure out her plan. _Sixty seconds Clarke! Come on think._ They all seemed to be situated on floating platforms in a huge lake. In the center sat a small island covered in supplies and the cornucopia, which was currently projecting the countdown clock. In between the island were little floating docks with small packs and supplies littering them. _Forty seconds, think!_ Clarke swiveled her head around to look behind her, there were rocky mountainous cliffs and what looked like the beginnings of a dessert, but it was a long ways away, she'd have to hope she had enough stamina to make a swim like that. In front of her on the other side of the cornucopia was what looked like jungle or forest maybe even a swamp area, but in order to get there she'd have to swim right by all the other tributes and hope she could avoid detection. _Twenty seconds! Ok Clarke just breathe._

About ten feet in front of Clarke's platform sat a floating dock and on it a small backpack. _That could be filled with valuable supplies,_ Clarke thought. She was a fast swimmer that she knew, but Bellamy had warned her about going after supplies. "Clarke promise me you will turn and leave the supplies behind," he had said to her only last night. His voice had been almost pleading with her. Clarke drew a short breath and positioned herself towards the small dock eyeing the backpack. _Sorry Bell,_ she thought, _but I need that backpack._

Clarke focused on steadying her breathing as the counter hit ten seconds. 

_Nine,_ she got into a diving position.

_Eight,_ Clarke looked down her bracelet.

_Seven,_ she hoped she wasn't about to make a fatal decision.

_Six,_ like a switch her mind turned into survivor mode.

_Five,_ her breathing slowed, she looked ready to kill.

_Four,_ Clarke's hands became clammy where they held onto her platform. 

_Three,_ Clarke stole one last look at the bracelet. _I promise,_ she thought, _I promise to try._

_Two,_ Glass's last words came back to her, "You show them that a true princess has dragon fire in her veins."

_One, I can do this Bell,_ she willed her thought to reach him across the miles of sky that separated them. _I can win._ A loud bang of a gong sounded and Clarke leapt into the water.

*******

Bellamy looked down at the drink Octavia had thrust into his hands with distaste, the sweet smelling liquid making his stomach curl. All around him people mingled and laughed. He was at a sort of party thrown by Snow for all the mentors and other higher up Capital sponsors. _These are the people who could save Clarke,_ Bellamy thought. All the walls around the room were cluttered with giant TV screens showing previews of the arena, Bellamy's stomach felt like lead as he looked at them.

"Bell at least try to look like you're enjoying yourself." Octavia said from his side.

"Why? I feel miserable, they should be too."

Octavia rolled her eyes, "Look over there," She nodded her head across the room towards a young woman who looked very familiar. Bellamy sighed, _Cressida Fell._

Cressida upon seeing Bellamy weaved her way through the crowd and towards him. Bellamy was not pleased to see that Octavia had managed to slip away before she arrived.

"Bellamy Blake." Cressida greeted him with a coy smile and then dissolved into a fit of giggles. _Great,_ Bellamy thought, _she's drunk._

"Cressida Fell." Bellamy offered the same greeting with his signature smirk. Cressida laughed again before caressing his upper arm.

"I haven't seen you recently." She pouted at him making Bellamy want to vomit all over again.

"Yes I've been very busy lately."

The martini glass in Cressida's left hand dipped precariously to the side, Bellamy was sure she was about to dump the whole thing down the front of another one of her hideous dresses. She looked like a giant green pea tonight with a bubbly green felt dress and matching green balls in her hair.

"Isn't this so exciting? Another Games!"

Bellamy swallowed the urge to roll his eyes at her comment. All these capital people were the same, making light of murdering children. Here he was stuck at a party with a drunken girl while Clarke was only minutes away from possible death.

The TV screens flashed and a picture of the Panam emblem appeared.

"It's starting!" Cressida was practically vibrating on the spot. She let go of Bellamy's arm and skipped over back across the room to a group similarly dressed capital women. Bellamy didn't try to hide his relief.

The cameras panned around the arena as the different tributes were raised up onto their platforms. Bellamy eyed the screen anxiously, his palms sweaty where they hung by his side. The camera moved over the faces on the forest side of the arena before panning over to the other side. Bellamy's eyes were drawn to her hair first; it looked like it had during the reaping. The camera panned low enough for Bellamy to see his bracelet on her wrist, he smiled glad Glass had been able to get it to her.

He'd been working on the bracelet periodically over the last week after he realized Clarke didn't have anything to bring into the arena with her. He'd been inspired by her crown during the tribute parade and decided to make the bracelet that very night. He'd been so carful in making the knots and handling the sea glass, he only figured out why this morning. He _loved_ her, and this bracelet is a symbol of that love. It's the only comfort he can give her in the arena- the only piece of him she'll have.

Countdown had begun, he prayed that Clarke just took his advice and dived towards the mountains behind her. The camera panned away before he could see if she'd made a decision.

The gong of the clock ticking down to zero hit and Bellamy still couldn't see her, the camera's were panning everywhere in fast short flashed trying to catch the most brutal killings in all their glory. He caught a flash of blonde hair swimming towards one of the floating docks. _That has to be her,_ he thought, _no one else is fast enough._ The camera tracked her movements as she approached the dock, no one else in sight; Bellamy gripped the glass of his drink tightly. _Please just let her live,_ let her not be seen. Clarke's movements were fast and strategic, her hand moved like lightning hitting the earth, quick and deliberate. She snatched at the strings to one backpack and dove back down again. Bellamy knew she needed to swim as far under the water without coming up for air as possible because if she didn't one of the careers would surly see her from their spot of the center island.

As if hearing him Clarke stayed under as long as possible moving towards the mountains and away from most of the other tributes. It was only than after the initial bloodbath was finished did the Gamemakers being to set off the bangs of the canon, signaling a dead tribute. Bellamy counted 13, and how glad he was that none of them were Clarke. 13 children dead within the first five minutes of the Games.

The camera's had panned back to Clarke and based on where she was headed Bellamy could tell she had a long swim on her hands, longer by far than any of the other tributes. _This is good,_ he thought, _they won't try to follow her._ The camera's moved onto the careers and other tributes, Bellamy felt confident enough that Clarke was safe for now to be able to take his focus off the screens. He had been talking to Lincoln, another mentor for district 11, when he heard Caesar's voice come through the TV speakers.

"Ok ladies and gentleman it seems Clarke Griffin, the female tribute from District Four, has run into quite a bit of trouble."

The screen switched from Caesar's obnoxious hair to Clarke swimming in the water covered in blood. The sight made Bellamy's words die in his throat. _Clarke!_ She had blood pouring from her eyes, nose, ears and mouth. It was flowing out of her in massive amounts turning the water around her a sick deep red colour making Bellamy's stomach flip.

"It's a nasty trick the Gamemakers have installed here. You see once you cross over a certain part in the water is turns into an enhanced blood thinner. For all of you out there who don't know what that is, it literally causes your blood to become thin enough to pour out of you, and in serious cases can lead to death by blood loss."

Bellamy's eyes darted to the map pegged up on the wall to the right of one of the main TVs. On it were 11 tiny red dots all showing a tribute's specific location as they moved through the arena. Clarke's dot was the only one left in the water, from what Bellamy could tell she was very close to the mountain shoreline, if she could make it to the beach she had a chance to live.

"If Miss Griffin can reach the beach she'll have a fighting chance, that is if she can stay awake long enough." Bellamy wanted to punch the TV screen right between Caesar's perfect orange eyebrows.

He continued to watch horror struck as Clarke began to slow in her movements as she noticed the red water around her. Bellamy waited for the inevitable shock and than screaming panic. _Keep it together princess,_ he thought. She needed to keep a level head to get herself out of this situation; if she panicked she'd waste precious energy instead of getting ashore. Bellamy watched as Clarke brought a hand up to her bloody face, and than closed his eyes when her shocked and scared scream echoed through the room his hands closing into fists.

Clarke's screams had been muffled as her head fell below the surface of the water. Bellamy knew what that meant; she didn't have enough strength to keep herself a float anymore. _God damn it Clarke, you should have just left the bloody backpack on that damn dock,_ he had wanted scream at her. But instead he watched helplessly as she struggled to hold her head up above the surface of the water, her hands still holding tirelessly onto the backpacks strings. Bellamy shook his head, _why did she have to be so stubborn?_ Bellamy watched as her eyes became gradually more clouded and distant as the harsh waves crested over her head. _Come on Clarke,_ he thought, _just make it to the beach baby, come one just a little further._

Clarkes legs kicked out one after another in feeble attempts to propel her towards the beach, she could see it clearly now. The waves crashed into her body pushing and spinning her in all directions. When she tried to right herself another wave would hit and she'd be smashed around again. In the middle of all this Bellamy heard a laugh bubble up across the room, in that moment he knew what he needed to do. Clarke needed help and there was only one way he was going to be able to make that happen.

Cressida Fell sat across the room giggling incoherently with her friends. Bellamy stole one last look at Clarke who had disappeared below the waves again, and made his way across the room.

"Bellamy your back!" Cressida pulled him down onto the seat right next to her, she sagged her body into his making Bellamy want to squirm.

"Cressida please introduce me to your friends here." He said with his charming smirk and a wide sinful grin.

"This is Geneora and Fauna." The two girls smiled coyly at him, with matching alcohol dulled eyes.

"We were just discussing your tribute, she has the most dreadful hair don't you think Fauna?" Cressida leaned forward letting Bellamy see down the front of her dress he tried to look very interested in her chest whilst trying to ignore her obvious jab at Clarke.

"Yes," Fauna agreed, "Blonde really had been out for ages, she's practically ancient." Then she dissolved back into obnoxious giggles at what Bellamy could hardly tell.

"Actually Clarke is what I came to talk to you about." Bellamy's comment was directed at Cressida, turning his back to her friends who seemed newly interested in a drink waiter.

"Hmm does this have anything to do with sponsorship money?" She pitched forwards trying to tap a finger against his chest.

"Maybe, or maybe I just miss your company." He wiggled his eyebrows at her. _God Blake you're really laying it on thick now._

"I think," She patted his chest, "Your lucky I like you." She smiled sloppily at him.

"Maybe I can consider giving out some money if you and me spent some free _quality time_ alone together." She leaned in closer to him when she spoke, her alcohol scented breath wafting over his face.

He smirked confidently at her, "Why don't we find a private place right now where we can spend that _quality time_ together."

*******

Clarke chocked coughing out what seemed like a river of water onto sand as she let her lungs fill with oxygen. She coughed a few more times, the back of her throat burning as she tried to take in her surroundings.

She was on a beach, somehow after passing out in the water she'd managed to be pushed ashore. To her right she could see her soaked backpack with its continents spilled out all over the sand. _Great hopefully it's not all useless now._

She remembers the moment she knew she was in trouble; when the water turned red and she couldn't stay awake, and her backpack started feel like it was filled with lead rocks. She remembers the panic of trying to keep her head above water, and the even more so when she had started to pass out how she'd barely been able to move her body. _The water must have been some type of blood thinner,_ Clarke knew that. Her mother had taught her about some of them when she had started her training to be a doctor, but she'd never heard of one at this level before. _Welcome to the hunger games,_ she thought, _where even water can kill you._ That's when she saw the silver parachute fall from the sky and land a few inches from her arm.

Her whole body felt like it had been sucked of strength. She could hardly move her arm and fingers to uncap the package. There was a card on the top she brought it closer to her face to read.

_Princess,_

_Take two of these tablets to help you get your strength back, can't have you collapsing in the middle of battle._

_You can't give up Clarke, your fights not over yet._

_\- Bell_

Clarke smiled, the pad of her thumb tracing over his name printed at the bottom of the card.

"Thank you." She said this to the air but a part of her knew Bellamy was watching her somewhere- that he'd see she was still fighting.

She downed two of the tablets and instantly felt better, she still didn't have the strength to stand but she was slowly regaining movement in her limbs. _It must be a blood thickener,_ she thought, _it'll help rebuild more red blood cells faster._ Her eyelids suddenly felt increasingly heavy. _Maybe I can sleep for a little,_ she thought, _just for a minute._ She dreamed of dark curls and easy smiles.

_This is for the girls who_

_Learn to breath fire over mist._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be more of Lincoln in later chapters so be ready for that! Leave a kudos/ comment/ review to tell me how your liking the story so far, thanks -AM


	7. Cuts and Bruises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We find out how Clarke and Bellamy first meet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so this chapter is a little different from other chapters I've written for this story. It includes a flashback and a dream sequence. Just be aware of that. please enjoy! -AM

_We were both young when I first saw you._

_I close my eyes and the flashback starts:_

_I'm standing there on a balcony in summer air._

It takes Clarke three days to regain her strength. In the first day she can barely sit up, by the second day she is able to drag herself into one of the rocky caves by the base of the cliffs for protection. She likes the cave, they remind her of the ones she used to explore as a child, and the one time she met a boy in one of them. _Don't think about that Clarke,_ she warned herself, _you can't think about that here._

The cave has it's own source of water, little pools in amongst the stalagmites, that are safe for her to drink. By the third day she is able to walk around and hunt for food. She finds none and returns to the cave empty handed by dusk.

For Clarke the nights are the worst, they're when she feels the most alone and the most scared. It's so dark in the cave that every little sound brings her whole body to attention thinking this could be the moment someone jumps out and kills her.

The nights also bring the holograms in the sky; they chill her to the bone. Children, children she saw alive only days ago now dead. Since the bloodbath two more have been killed probably from the careers, who view killing as some sick sport. Most of Clarke is terrified of ever coming face to face with them, but another part- one she keeps hidden- hopes that she will find them and kill every single one of them.

The nights also give her a lot of time to think, tonight the fourth night since the games started, she looks up at the fake starts shinning above and she thinks of a night years ago- a night where she met someone who, years later, would change her life.

Clarke had been eight at the time, and it was a cool summer evening that found her in a small cave by the coast. This was before the Hunger Games even existed in her tiny head; she was a child innocent and free.

Her parents were fighting again, so Clarke had snuck out through her bedroom window and ran along the beach to the cave- her cave- as she called it back than. It was small with its mouth partially hidden by a wall of rocks; only those who knew of its specific location could ever find it. That was one part that Clarke had always loved, the cave was her only place to be alone. The only place she'd never be found.

She could tell tonight was going to be good night, the stars shone above unobscured by clouds. A slight breeze blowing off the ocean wound around her like a warm hug as it whipped through her hair. Here she was home- here she was free.

She was sitting at the edge of the caves mouth letting her bare feet dangle down towards the sea below, it would surge up and greet her tiny feet with every wave before being pulled back into the big dark ocean. That's when she heard it, the low mutterings of an angry boy. The next second a rock came flying out of nowhere and cut a gash along her cheek. She brought her fingers up to her face, feeling the wet blood stick to them. Clarke turned her head just in time to see an angry faced boy turn the corner of the caves mouth and stare shell shocked at her, his foot in mid motion to kick another rock. She had tears pooling at the corners of her eyes.

"I'm sorry," The boy said, as he approached her she could see the beginnings of a bruise forming on his right eye.

"I didn't know anyone else was going to be in here." He spoke again as he took a seat next to her. Clarke thought he looked about ten, although he was much taller than she would have expected any ten year old to be.

He glanced at her cheek once more before dropping his eyes guilty towards the sea below them. He dangled his feet into the sea as well, except the water came up well past his ankles. They are both silent for a long time, so long that the throbbing of Clarkes cheek begins to stop.

"What happened to your eye?" It's the first words she's said to him since he arrived.

The boy rubs the back of his neck still refusing to look at her, "I got into a fight."

"With who?" Clarke had seen fights at school; she knew how vicious they could get.

"Just someone who said something about my sister, princess." This time the boy smirks, looking at her through the corner of his eye.

Clarke ignores the princess comment at this age she was already use to the nicknames everyone called her, "And did you win?"

This time the boy turns to her a small impish grin on his face, "Of course, my sister my responsibly."

Clarke frowns down at her hands but doesn't say anything while she tries to ignore the boy's eyes on her. He truly has beautiful eyes, they're chocolate brown with tiny flacks of gold and hazel. They make her feel warm and safe, a part of her wants them to swallow her up whole.

The two are silent for a while both observing the sea before the boy speaks again pointing up at the sky, "Look a shooting star, you should make a wish."

Clarke scrunches up her nose confused, "Why?"

The boy laughs, "It's a thing people used to do a long time ago. I read about it."

"Why can't you wish on this type of shooting star?" Clarke asks him, her eyes tracking the streak of light as it moves across the sky.

"I wouldn't even know what to wish for. What about you?" The boy asks as he looks over at her his eyebrow raised in question.

"I'd wish for more nights like this." She says as she reclines back on her elbows.

The boy turns and smiles at her, an honest smile showing all his teeth, making the gold hints in his eyes almost appear to glow. _Eyes,_ she thought, _those damn eyes fucked me forever._

Four years later that boy with his sweet eyes was carted off to the Hunger Games, a year later the sister he was suppose to protect followed him. The next time Clarke spoke to him was years later on the tribute train heading towards the Capital.

They had yelled at each other, and all while he was staring at her with those same warm eyes. Clarke should've known even back than that she was doomed – that she was doomed to love him.

Clarke opened her eyes again, leaving the memory in her head and letting it drift away from her. On the roof of the arena where the fake stars shone a small streak of light darted through the air. Clarke knew it was probably just one of the camera drones, but still she couldn't help herself.

"Can you wish on this kind of shooting star?" She whispered tiredly to the air.

A part of her – a silly part- imagined Bellamy was lying next to her. She imagined that he'd turn to her and give her that same big smile he'd shown in the cave that night all those years ago. She closed her eyes again and tried to think of what his answer might have been.

*******

"Clarke! No!" Bellamy stormed towards the TV screen, smashing his fist against the wall next to it.

Clarke was in a brutal battle with Casper, the boy for district 1, he had her smashed up against a tree with a knife to her throat. Bellamy knew she was going to die- he knew it and all he could do was watch.

Casper threw Clarke onto the ground using his body weight to hold her down. Bellamy watched frozen as Casper pressed the tip of the knife against Clarke's side and slowly moved it up to her shoulder. He listened as she screamed in pain, the sound bursting through his ears.

Than to Bellamy's horror Casper slit Clarke's throat in less than a second. The cannon went off and Bellamy couldn't move as the camera did a long close up of Clarke's lifeless blue eyes. Bellamy lost it, with tears and curses spewing from his mouth. He brought his fists up to the TV screen and punched, and punched, and punched until his knuckles were torn up and the screen was just electrical wires and smashed glass hanging on the wall.

"Clarke!" He screamed her name over and over. With Each one he lost a little bit more of his fight until he was scrunched up in a ball on the ground, her name trembling from his lips in broken pieces.

"Clarke." He said her name as he burst awake.

Bellamy tried to grab his bearings. He was in his bed, his sheets knocked off him probably from his nightmare. He was covered in sweat, making the tips of his hair stick against his forehead. He was crying, actual tears slipped down his cheeks as he tried to calm himself down. Bellamy ran a hand over his face, _Clarke._ He had to make sure that she was okay- that she was alive.

He got out of bed in only his boxers and stumbled out into the hall. The apartment was dark and silent. It reminded Bellamy of the last night before Clarke left for the games. He passes her room on his way to the TV in the main living space. He tries not to look at it, because if he does he'll never make it to the TV- he'll barely be able to stand at all.

He takes a seat in the middle of the couch, the TV screen casting a blue light over the dark room. The TV is always on, with the Hunger Games being mandatory viewing for all citizens of Panam. _Snow doesn't want anyone to miss the deaths,_ Bellamy thinks, _he wants everyone to see them in all their brutal glory._ Bellamy's hands turn to fists, what he wouldn't do to mount Snow's head on a plate.

The screen rotates through the different tributes, there's eleven left. It stops on some for longer than others. Bellamy is only mildly interested until the camera stops on her. She looks half starved and delirious, he feels something inside of him clench up. _She's alive Bell,_ he tells himself, _she's still alive._ Clarkes laying on the floor of the caves she's been in for over three days now, Bellamy thinks she must be staring up at the stars or what appear to be stars.

The camera zooms in closer to Clarkes face, Bellamy finds himself moving to towards the screen as well until he stands directly in front of it- the glow hurting his eyes only slightly. He lets his fingers drift across her face, pressing lightly against her lips and her eyes. He holds his breath when she speaks.

"Can you wish on this kind of shooting star?" Suddenly Bellamy can't breath because she remembers. _She remembers!_

Ever since he was little that night has haunted him, and everyday at school he would see her with her friends. And he'd wanted so badly to just approach her, just saying anything. And yet he hadn't been able to, he hadn't been able to conjure a single thought of what to say. So for years he'd just stared at her, watched from afar as she grew into this gorgeous fierce looking girl he knew of today. Even after surviving the Hunger Games and becoming victor, it was memories of that night that still kept him awake until the early hours of the morning thinking about what _could_ have been- what _almost_ was.

Bellamy's fingers traced her lips. _Yes,_ he thought, _you can have anything you want princess. I would give you the world if only you'd live._

That night instead of going back to his room Bellamy pushed open the door to hers. It looked exactly as it had when she'd been here. Bellamy let out a haggard sigh as he clasped onto her bed he fell asleep instantly his last thought being of how her pillows smelled exactly of coconut shampoo.

_You'll be the prince and I'll be the princess._

_It's a love story, baby, just say, "Yes"._

  
_'Cause we were both young when I first saw you_  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The quote is from lyrics to Taylor Swifts's song Love Story. I was listening to the song while typing up the chapter and it just sort of fit so well that I couldn't not include it. Anyway please leave a kudos/ comment/ review I love to here how you guys are liking the story so far. Thanks -AM (also anyone else notice the show quotes I managed to sneak in there?)


	8. A Piece of Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke finds two allies and Bellamy learns to trust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off so sorry this chapter is so late my mind was just not in the creative place to write. As always please enjoy- AM

_Sometimes I wonder if love is worth fighting for._

Day five and Clarke was desperate for food. She had plenty of water but without protein her body would starve before she even made it close to the end. She took stalk of her waterlogged backpack:

_1 water canteen_

_1 med kit_

_1 blade, good for defense and setting traps_

_20 feet worth of thick nylon climbing rope._

Clarke knew her only chance was to reach the top of the cliffs and hope there was greenery or forest up there. She knew she didn't have enough energy to survive a swim back especially with the blood thinner in the water, so climbing was her only option. She stepped out of the cave and took one look at the cliff and her heart dropped. There was no way her rope was going to be long enough to make it to the top; she was going to have to free climb. That meant no ropes to hold her, and no safety net to catch her fall. Every placement of her feet and hands had to be perfect; one misstep could mean a fatal fall. _Breath and be brave Clarke,_ she told herself, _breath and be brave._

Clarke packs everything up into her backpack. She's carful to fill her canteen up as much as possible and to secure the med kit so nothing more is damaged. She keeps the blade tucked securely into her waistband, easy access should she need it. Bellamy's bracelet is still firmly tied around her wrist, _where it will stay,_ she promises. Lastly she places the rope also inside the pack; it could be useful to her later down the road. She gives one last final sweeping gaze of the cave. _Goodbye,_ she thinks. She than turns to face the daunting cliff above her, with one last firm nod of her head she begins to climb. _No turning back now,_ she thinks as her legs begin to shake with the effort to hold her against the rock face.

The cliffs look a lot easier to climb from the ground and a whole hell of a lot less steep. Clarke's about twenty feet up the rock face and she not even close to half way. She's using the divots in the rock and the different ledges to help haul herself up the cliff. It's a daunting and precarious climb, twice her fingers slip against the smooth rock, and she has to scramble to get proper footing before she falls. But even worse than the sheer rock is the wind, the higher she climbs the more intense it gets. The wind whips through her hair and pulls at her backpack almost knocking her off balance. Clarke knows she has to get to the top of the cliff; she'll die if she doesn't. _Come on,_ she urges herself, _it's only a little farther._

Two hours into her climb and she's only got to get over one more ledge before she reaches the top. Clarke tries not to look down, but it's unavoidable. She supposes she's about one hundred feet from the ground but in all reality she could be much higher.

Clarke's wetsuit has protected her arms, legs and feet from the jagged rocks but it can do nothing for her hands. She can feel the slick blood, from sharp edges of the rocks and divots she's grabbed onto, pooling in her palms making her hands slippery. Still she doesn't stop. She keeps climbing, because there is no way in hell she's going to die because of some rocks. The wind had picked up again as Clarke made it to the base of the last rock ledge. _Almost to the top,_ she smiled, tired and haggard but alive.

She was just about to pull herself up on to the final ledge when she felt the first tremble of the rock. She stilled her movements and waited a few seconds; the trembles continued this time growing in intensity. _Earthquake._ Clarke smashed herself against the rock surface as she felt the cliff shift beneath her. Her head hit against the bottom of the rock ledge as she wedged herself into position where she wouldn't be knocked off. _Those damn game makers always trying to fucking make things interesting_ , she cursed them under her breath.

Large cracking noises echoed off to her left and right as huge sections of the cliff broke off and fell into the ocean below completely burying the caves at the beach. Clarke swallowed uneasily; if she'd stayed she'd be dead right now or trapped beneath two tons worth of rock and rubble. The trembling continued but Clarke's side of the cliff held together with only smaller boulders falling down the cliff surface.

Clarke counted out ten minutes after the trembling stopped before she unlatched from her safe position beneath the ledge. She used the remaining strength in her arms to haul herself up onto the rock outcropping. She fell onto her back breathing heavily as she tried to catch her breath. That's when she heard four booms of the cannon go off. Clearly the earthquake hadn't just been isolated to her cliff, it must have sent out shock waves all across the arena. _What a horrible way to go,_ she thought, _either crushed by rocks or drowned by a giant title wave._

Clarke pushed herself back onto her feet as her muscles screamed in protest. _Ten feet left,_ she told them, _hold it together for ten more feet._ They did, gritting her teeth and hefting each limb from one rock to the next she managed to limber up and over the lip of the cliff. Sweat and dried blood covering skin and yet she had made it. A two hundred foot climb and somehow she had done it, the princess had climbed a mountain. She'd done it all by herself, although Clarke was sore and tired she could feel strength coursing through her muscles. _Dragon fire,_ she thought, _I'm build from dragon fire._ She smiled and tilted her head up to the sun it was about midday and the heat covered her like a warm blanket, even so she couldn't keep the smile off her face.

Clarke was hit with a sudden moment of loneliness, what she wouldn't give to turn to someone and celebrate with them- _with him._ Yet she was alone, for almost a week she had yet to see another human being. Of course she knew a nation of thousands of people were watching her every move at any given moment, but it was in this moment of small triumph that she felt the most lonely. Bellamy's face surfaced in her mind, she wanted to tell him about what she'd done. She wanted him here in the arena with her. She wanted to throw her arms around him and cry, and laugh, and scream. She spun on the spot and found only the lonely forest as her companion.

She looked back out over the cliff. The whole arena spread out beneath her. To her left was the flat desert arena and beyond that the beginnings of a hilly grassland area. To her right was the forest, which turned into a swamp that joined up with the grassland area. The whole place was a giant circle with a small ocean in the middle of it. The cornucopia looked like a tiny speck in the center. _Wow,_ she thought, _from up here the whole place actually looks kind of beautiful._

The forest around her had long grass growing in clumps, Clarke spent the rest of the day weaving the grass blades into nets and setting them up in strategic places hidden among the greenery hoping to catch some small game. If she was lucky she might get a boar, she pushed away thoughts of catching anything bigger like a person. A shudder went up her back thinking about what she'd have to do to them. The knife in her waistband suddenly felt like a hundred pound weight.

*******

Clarke walked a short distance into the forest, leaving her traps behind her. She wanted to check for anything edible but still be in hearing distance if one of them went off. She'd only been walking about a minute when she found a grove of wild black berries.

She waved through the various bushes collecting berries in her hands and popping them into her mouth. She'd never tasted anything so good in her life. After five days without food she bet even deer dung would taste good. Clarke had bent down to pick a few more berries while sucking the sweet juice off one of her fingers when she heard the strong snap of a twig.

Immediately Clarke pressed herself closer to the berry bush. Hoping if she curled down low behind the clump of berry bushes what ever or whoever was out there would just pass right on by.

Clarke stayed very still holding her breath because she afraid even her exhale could alert whatever was out there lurking in the forest.

The footsteps came closer stopping right behind her bush. Clarke sucked in a breath her heartbeat rising in her ears. Carefully she slid the blade out of her waistband and held it between her clammy hands. She decided whatever was standing behind her was definitely human judging by the sound footsteps had made when approaching her bush.

Looking down at her blade Clarke counted down from three. All at once she sprung from her hiding spot spinning with her knife outstretched to meet her opponent.

"Wells?" Clarke chocked out the question relief evident in her voice.

The dark skinned boy stared wide-eyed from Clarke to the knife that had stopped less than an inch from his neck. One move and Clarke could have him dead in less than a second flat.

"Clarke?" Wells looked wary of her.

Clarke dropped her knife and pulled the boy into a hug. Even though Clarke had explained that being allies was too risky for her, the two had remained close during training. Part of the reason Clarke was so scared to watch the holograms at night was because she was terrified she'd see Well's face up there staring down at her.

Wells laughed, "Ah so the dynamic duo meets again."

*******

Bellamy rubbed the back of his neck as he stepped out of yet another dance with a love struck capital women. He anxiously looked back at the big screen on the wall. It was currently showing a close up of Finn as he stumbled through the forest blood seeping from where Casper had stabbed him. _Idiot,_ Bellamy thought, _making an alliance with the careers never guarantees safety._

As much as Bellamy didn't like the boy he did feel sickened by the dark spot spreading over Finns side and abdomen. _He'll die slow,_ Bellamy knew that a wound like that was likely to bleed out slowly for days until eventually either the agonizing pain or bloodless ended the poor boy. Bellamy shook his head, as much as he didn't like Finn he would never wish a death so torturous on someone. Finn had managed to find a cave nestled between two rocks in the forest where he collapsed, the hand pressing against his side smeared red with blood.

The cameras panned to Clarke and Wells who were both leaning against a tree in the forest. Bellamy knew that Clarke having an ally was a good idea. There was more protection for her and a greater chance of finding food. But still he didn't like that her chosen ally was Wells. It was nothing the boy had done it was just the way his eyes watched Clarke; Bellamy had that same heated gaze when he looked at her. Bellamy didn't like anyone- let alone another guy- looking at Clarke like that. She was _his_ princess.

Another reason Wells rubbed Bellamy the wrong way was because he had to protect Clarke. Bellamy had to trust someone else with her life. It wasn't that Wells had given any inclination that he wasn't trustworthy. Letting people in was hard for Bellamy, trusting people with pieces of himself was something he never really did. Clarke was in every sense a piece of him, maybe even the most important. Bellamy didn't like how out of control he felt when he had to trust her life to someone else's hands. He hated it, hated Snow, hated the games, hated the capital, hated every living soul who thought it was okay to throw children into a games to the death, he hated who being a victor had turned him into, he hated that Clarke wasn't safe, and most of all he hated that there wasn't a god dammed thing he could do about any of it.

He was brought out of his thoughts as someone came up beside him. Bellamy kept his eyes on the screen but he knew who the person was immediately, she was the most normal looking capital citizen at the party.

Glass didn't say anything about Bellamy's clenched fists or stern expression. She regarded him impassively. Bellamy always liked that about Glass, her ability to say everything by saying nothing. How when she spoke her words always struck the recipient deep in their core. She never judged and she always spoke the truth.

They didn't speak as Bellamy watched the screen and slowly the tension left his body and his hands fell to his sides once more. The screen had circled back through all the tributes and settled once again on Clarke, who was lying on the grass staring up the stars.

Bellamy wasn't sure if the fake stars on the roof of the arena were of actual constellations or just random dots. Clarke seemed to be trying to figure that out too. Her eyebrows knitted together and she tried to place certain constellations. A small smile curled at the corner of his lips. He'd taught her some star patterns on her last night before the games began, she must be trying to find them again. The thought made warmth pool in Bellamy's stomach. He felt an inexplicable tug in his gut for the girl on the screen in front of him.

"Wow," Glass was staring at him eyebrow raised.

"What?" Bellamy turned his attention from the screen to the blonde stylist to his right.

"Nothing. It just that you should have seen the way you were looking at her."

Bellamy rubbed the back of his neck a slight blush rising on his cheeks. _Had he really been that obvious?_

"How was I looking at her?"

"Like she's the ocean and your desperate to drown."

*******

It was pitch black in the forest and eerily silent. Clarke didn't like it, it was her turn to be on watch and she'd turned into a pool of anxiety. She gripped the blade tightly between her fingers; it shook slightly as she moved her head to scan the surrounding trees. She could pick out nothing in the darkness.

Than she heard it; the snap of tree branches, the ruffled sound of grass blades and a muffled scream. _My traps!_ She woke Wells and the two creeped silent into the clearing where Clarke had set up her nets. She knew immediately which trap had been sprung. It was the one at the far end of the clearing near where she'd found the blackberry bushes.

They both approached the net, now hanging ten feet in the air, with caution. As Clarke neared the dangling woven trap she could just make out a vague small black figure tangled in the center, and a few quick flashes of blond hair.

"Charlotte?"

The figure whipped her head around to face Clarke. In the darkness she could just make out two blue terrified eyes staring back at her. They glowed against the otherwise black night.

Wells undid the trap and Clarke threw her blade aside as she rushed to help the younger girl untangle herself. Charlotte was Wells's district partner. Wells had often said she was a sweet and quite little girl, definitely too young for the games. Clarke thought the girl in front of her resembled a frightened little mouse.

Clarke and Wells walked Charlotte back to where they'd set up camp, neither noticed that the little girl had tucked Clarke's blade into one of her boots.

_But then I remember your face_

_And I'm ready for war_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome Charolette and Wells! The quote is from my tumblr it inspired me.


	9. Sinful Lips

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy watches Clarke. We see what happened on Bellamy and Clarke's last night together before the games became. And things in the games turn deadly...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! So this chapter has two flash back scenes one of which I have been waiting to add since I posted chapter 4! I'll let you know in my end note which scene it was. As always enjoy-AM
> 
> BTW: This is now my longest fic ever! With the competition of this chapter the word count beats my other Bellarke fic Hopeless by just under 2,000 words!!!YAY!

**_Princess;_ **

_With lips made of glass_

_And a voice cut from steel_

_Features born from thunder and battle_

Bellamy crosses his arms and leans back against the brick wall of his school. It's warm out and sunny with just a slight breeze from the sea that makes the air smell faintly of salt. Summer is almost upon him; they only have a few weeks of school left. Bellamy carries a weight around in his stomach; summer brings the reaping, and the reaping brings death for him and Octavia.

Bellamy's eyes search the schoolyard like he does every day. He spots a flash of blonde hair across the yard. He smiles, _Clarke Griffin._ She has on a ridiculous dress that her mother probably made her wear, but her hair is still tied back in her ever-present French braid. _Just like that night at the cliffs._ Bellamy shakes his head that was four years ago he was fourteen now, and Clarke had to be about twelve. He doubted she even remembered it.

She stood across the yard arms folded over her chest with the most adorable stern expression that he'd ever seen. She was facing down a kid in Bellamy's grade who had dared to pull at the tail of her braid. The boy was probably double Clarkes height and weight, yet the little blonde girl held her ground. The boy sneered down at her as a teacher approached and pushed the two apart. Bellamy's eyes tracked her movement as she walked back to a group of girls on the opposite side of the blacktop.

"Why don't you just go and talk to her?"

Bellamy nearly jumped three feet in the air, when Octavia spoke. He hadn't even noticed that she'd approached. Octavia crooked her head to the side regarding him quizzically but a mischievous smile played out on her lips. She had the top part of her hair tied back with a red ribbon; their mother must have found it that morning.

Bellamy rolled his eyes ignoring his sister, "Why don't you go back and play with your friends?"

Bellamy tipped his head back to lean against the red brick wall, while Octavia ignored him and stayed perched at his side.

"Her name is Clarke Griffin." Octavia raised up onto her the tops of her toes giving him a too innocent smile.

"I know." Bellamy had watched her for long enough, he'd had her name memorized for years.

"Why are you always watching her?"

Bellamy just shook his head but didn't answer her.

Octavia pouted, "Bell please."

Bellamy turned to her his annoyance rising.

"Go O!" He pointed back to a group of her friends who were drawing with stubby pieces of chalk, "Leave me alone."

Octavia looked sad but she did as she was told, turning away from her brother and heading back across the black top.

Bellamy let out a breath and turned his head back to where Clarke had been standing with her friends. His next inhale of breath caught in his throat because she was looking right at him, her stare pinning him against the brick wall. Her blue eyes swirled as they locked with his brown ones. But only for a second before turning back to the group of friends standing around her, like she hadn't seen him in the first place.

A harsh beeping coming from his watch pulled Bellamy from the memory playing in his head bringing him back to the present. That had been a week before the reaping- _before he became a killer._ Back when things were simpler. All he had to worry about was brawls in the schoolyard and keeping O out of trouble.

Bellamy heard a sigh to his right. The blonde girl breathed out peacefully her exhales fanning out across his bare chest. Fauna, Cressida's friends from the first party he'd attended at the beginning of the games, lay asleep nestled at him side. She'd apparently been so taken with Bellamy at the party that she'd made a request to Snow to book a 'session' with him. This was the third one she'd paid for since the games started.

Fauna shifted slightly on his chest her hair rubbing against his skin. She'd died it blonde, Bellamy could tell because of the darker roots at the base of her neck. He couldn't help but wish the girl next to him had real honey colored hair that way he could at least pretend she was someone else- _someone who he loved._

*******

**_Warrior;_ **

_With Fire in her veins_

_And armor beneath her skin_

_Who crushes the earth beneath her feet._

*******

The boom of the canon shocked Clarke awake as she flew shakily onto her feet looking frantically around the camp. Charlotte shot up next to Clarke grabbing at her jacket sleeve. Wells stood opposite Clarke staring up at the sky; waiting.

The opening notes of the capital anthem played as a face popped up in the sky. Clarke vaguely recognized him as the boy from district two.

"Good. One career down." She spoke aloud.

Wells and Charlotte looked at her with puzzled expressions

"Clarke," Well spoke slowly to her, "he was the last career the other three have been dead since day 1." 

"What are you talking about? No they haven't."

"Clarke how long were you passed out on that beach?"

"Only a couple hours, I didn't think I'd missed anything."

Wells nodded, "Yeah, Murphy killed them one by one. He's been hunting the rest of us down-"

"Looking for you." Clarke finished Wells statement remembering their altercation with Murphy in the training room on the first day.

"So who's left then?"

Charlotte, who hadn't said a word through the whole exchange, spoke up.

"Us, Finn, and Murphy. That's it."

Clarke drew in a breath, _the final five._ She had somehow made it to the final five. She could win- she could go home. Subconsciously Clarke ran her fingers over Bellamy's bracelet, tracing the delicate stones and the supple rope. It calmed her and at the same time filled her with deep worry. _It's almost worse,_ she thought, _being so close to the end, like falling short right in front of the finish line. Tragic._

"We should move camp, find some place more secure. We're the last alliance in the game. Murphy will be coming for us next." Wells spoke, already gathering his things. Clarke followed without comment.

They make camp near the top of the cliff that Clarke had scaled only a day prior. Wells had said it was the highest point in the whole arena, therefore they could see anyone coming towards them. Clarke took first watch to let the other two get some sleep because Wells had been on watch when the canon went off and Charlotte looked too tired to stand. Any sleep the younger girl could get was worth it what with her constant nightmares.

Clarke sat silent as the night staring out across the dark black water of the arena. Part of the reason she hated the nights so much was because they gave her time to think- _sometimes thinking was the worst part._

A warm breeze blew her hair off her shoulders and reminded her of a night before the games- _her last night._ Bellamy had taken her up onto the roof of the complex where they'd been housed for the week. They were both sitting next to each other and he was telling her the myth about the star constellation Andromeda.

"She was the beautiful daughter of Queen Cassiopeia. The Queen, being very vain, boasted about her own beauty, saying she was even more beautiful than the Nereid's. This angered Poseidon, the sea god. To cool his anger, Cassiopeia chained her daughter to a rock on the beach as a sacrifice to the sea monster Cetus. But the hero Perseus, who killed Cetus by turning him to stone with Medusa's severed head, saved her. Eventually they both fell in love."

Clarke nodded along with the story as Bellamy pointed out the different stars that make up the constellation.

"She's known as the princess", he'd told her, "it suits you."

Clarke turned her head towards him, some of her loose curls brushed his shoulder when she spoke, "And whys that?"

Bellamy looked away, his hand ticking nervously.

"No reason." He mumbled barely audible.

The two were silent for a while before Clarke spoke.

"Will you tell me your favorite myth?"

Bellamy smirked down at her, "I couldn't, there's too many to choose from."

Clarke huffed, "Bell please. It'll give me something else to think about in the arena."

Bellamy rolled his eyes, "You know just how to guilt me into doing whatever you want you know that?"

Clarke only smirked at him.

She prompted him to start the story; her eyes tracked his freckles when he spoke. She imagined she could press a kiss to every single one of them; the thought brought a faint blush to her cheeks.

"The myth goes that Persephone, daughter of Zeus and Demeter, the goddess of springtime and girlhood was very beautiful and attracted many suitors. Her mother, Demeter, was very angry by this and kept the suitors away. One day Hades, god of the underworld, spotted Persephone and instantly fell in love with her. When Demeter refused to give her daughter to Hades he made a plan to kidnap her."

Bellamy paused with a sharp intake of breath when Clarke laid her head on his shoulder. Clarke smiled, content.

"With the help of Zeus, Hades lured Persephone away from her friends with a tempting beautiful Narcissus flower. When Persephone plucked the flower a tiny hole appeared, the hole grew and Hades birth forth riding on his chariot. He grabbed Persephone and stole her away to the underworld."

"And what happened?" Clarkes voice was earnest.

Bellamy smiled down at her, "Well the original myth says that Demeter was so angry that she made Zeus make a deal with Hades that Persephone would spend half the year on Earth and the other half in the Underworld as queen." His voice had dropped to a whisper.

"But you don't believe that part?" Clarke's voice too had dropped to a match his.

Their faces were so close- _too close._ Bellamy's breath mingled with Clarke's own.

"No, I don't believe Demeter would settle for a deal unless she knew her daughter was happy."

"You believe Persephone loved Hades too." Clarke said knowingly.

Bellamy nodded, "Star crossed lovers."

"Tragic." Clarke answered him, their lips less than an inch apart.

"Bell?"

"Hmm?" Bellamy's eyes locked with Clarke's

"Why did you tell my that story?" Clarke ached to touch him- to know the feel of his lips against hers.

Bellamy's eyes dropped to Clarke's lips, "Because sometimes tragic love is the best kind there is."

In Clarke's ears his voice sounded as sinful as his lips looked, and something inside of her ached for him. She turned her head away first, unable to trust herself with the temptation of him. _Tragic,_ she thought, _beautiful and deadly._ For she knew if she let herself love him she'd only ever cause him more pain.

_You can't love me,_ she'd wanted to scream at him, _I'm going to die tomorrow._

*******

Clarke wasn't present when it happened, but the cameras were. The Gamemakers made sure the entire country saw innocent little Charlotte drag a knife across Wells neck. Bellamy's surprise echoed that of thousands.

He was standing next to Octavia and Lincoln at the time. Bellamy was watching the screen and trying very hard to ignore Octavia's obvious flirting with the other victor. The cameras had moved from a quick snippet of Finn still hiding in a cave, to Murphy perched in a tree overlooking the edge of the swamp- too close to Clarke's camp for Bellamy to handle. The screen than changed to Clarke who was weaving another grass net, probably for catching wild game. Something stirred worriedly in Bellamy's stomach; the earthquake had been two days ago. The public was getting restless waiting for the next big twist; he could practically feel their bloodlust. Bellamy worried that if there wasn't some action soon the game makers may unleash one of their deadly creations.

Charlotte's face popped up on the screen. Her and Wells were by the berry bushes, picking and talking as they walked, the sun was going down- a good indicator that the Gamemakers had something up their sleeves. _Always at night,_ Bellamy remembered, _they always set a trap at night._

Something didn't feel right, unease settled in Bellamy's gut. Something about Charlottes body language read as off to him.

"You don't sleep do you kid?" Wells asked her.

The dark circles under Charlotte's eyes stood out dramatically against her pale skin, far too many to just be from the games.

"I never can. I get nightmares." Charlotte wouldn't look at Wells when she spoke.

"I get them every night. But I think I've found a way to make them stop." Charlotte bent down appearing to pluck at more berries, but Bellamy could see the glint of silver as she pulled the knife out of her boot.

Wells was still looking the opposite way, surveying the trees. Bellamy wanted to shout at him to turn around. _Look at her you idiot!_

Charlotte uttered, "I'm sorry," just as Wells turned to look at her with a confused expression on his face. Charlotte brought her hand up to Wells neck and dragged the dagger across the front of his throat.

The room around Bellamy erupted into gasps of shock and dismay as Wells fell gasping to the ground, reaching towards Charlotte in vain.

She kneeled beside him whispering tears forming in her eyes, "Every night I see him, your father, and he kills my parents. And I see his face, than I wake up and I see yours. It never ends. This was the only way to stop it."

Wells body isn't moving anymore, "I had too." Charlotte tells him.

The canon booms and everyone in the room stands completely still.

**_Heroine;_ **

_A grin made of war_

_And eyes flecked with ash_

_Striding powerful into the arms of death._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we see the darker side of Charlotte this chapter...how'd you guys like that? Are you happy I stayed in canon with the show or would you have liked for me to change it up?  
> Yes the scene I've been dreaming about since chapter 4 was the flashback where Bellamy explains to Clarke the myth of Persephone and Hades. So this is also my favorite greek myth, and obviously I felt the need to add it in ;) I also thought the myth had some great parallels to Bellamy and Clarke as well.  
> Please leave a kudos/comment/ review. Chapter 10 will be up in the next couple of days. As always, thanks:)-AM


	10. Lost Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And then there were two....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys so this week has been really hard for me both mentally and emotionally so that's why this chapter took so long to post. I'm so sorry. Anyways please enjoy! -AM
> 
> Oh! I almost forgot! HALF WAY GUYS!!! WOOT WOOT!

_I am a lost girl from Neverland_

_Usually hanging out with Peter Pan_

_And when we're bored we play in the woods_

_Always on the run from Captain Hook_

_"Run, run, lost girl," they say to me,_

_"Away from all of reality."_

Charlotte's cries reach her ears before she hears the resounding boom of the canon. Clarke is on her feet in a second racing through the forest. _Please don't be dead,_ she pleaded alarms firing off in her head.

She finds Charlotte in a ball on the ground shaking and crying. The next thing Clarke sees is Wells body in a crumpled heap a few feet away from Charlotte's crying figure. She drops to the younger girls side pulling her away from Wells, his dead eyes staring through her. Clarke tucks Charlotte's head into her shoulder trying to shield the young girl. She doesn't see the knife Charlotte threw haphazardly under a berry bush.

Clarke does see the slash across Wells neck and the red blood marring his dark skin.

"Murphy..." Charlotte mumbles into Clarkes shoulder.

Clarke whispered words of comfort into the younger girls hair, rubbing up and down her back.

"He- He just dropped down from a tree. I...I turned just as- as Wells..."

"It's okay." Clarke tells her, even though she knows it's not.

Clarke pulls Charlotte to the edge of the clearing when the helicopter appears overhead. Clarke begins to hum, as the claw lifts Wells body into the air and out of sight. _May we meet again,_ she thinks. She continues to hum until Charlotte stops shaking and the quiet noises of the forest filter back into the clearing. Her eyes turn to slits moving from tree to tree looking for Murphy.

They stay like that for the whole night, Clarke forming a plan. Clarke doesn't sleep, she barely moves. Eventually Charlotte had drifted off on Clarke's shoulder, sleeping soundly for once. Clarke remarks that as strange, she'd expected night terrors or more tears. But by the time the sun rose the next morning Charlotte hadn't stirred once. Clarke thought it was the most the younger girl had slept since she got to the games maybe even before that. _Strange._ But Clarke didn't have time to further think on the subject they had to get moving on the plan.

Clarke taught Charlotte a quick lesson on weaving nets and the two girls got to work. Clarke wanted to blanket the forest and swamp arena in nets. If Murphy ever left the trees, he'd be hers. Clarke sat next to Charlotte for most of the day weaving grass blades together as she offers encouragement and corrects the younger girls mistakes. Charlotte is relatively quiet while they work. Something Clarke normally wouldn't give a second thought to, the girl had always been shy, but something about her behavior read as off. The younger girl hadn't looked Clarke in the eye since last night, and Clarke's blade was missing. She hadn't wanted to say anything out loud to Charlotte not wanting to worry her figuring Murphy had some how taken the blade. But now with Charlotte's abnormal behavior Clarke had to wonder. _Something else must have happened when Murphy attacked, something Charlotte isn't willing to tell me yet, she thought._

Clarke snuck a look at the girl sitting just to her right. Charlotte's fingers moved nimbly over the different blades of grass weaving them together. But there was a hesitance to her movements almost like she were trying to appear too focused or too fluid. _Something's wrong,_ Clarke knew it deep down in her gut.

By noon the sun is right above their heads shinning triumphantly down on them. The light hits the blue sea glass on her bracelet just right as she pulled the pushed the grass blades together. Clarke took a moment to admire it, the jewels casting strange reflections and slivers of light. She turned her wrist in the sun. Looking more closely at the little slivers that fell onto the grass by her feet.

"That bracelet is really pretty." Charlotte tracked the movement of Clarke's wrist, still avoiding her eye contact.

Clarke nodded in agreement. It really was beautiful-so was the boy who had made it for her. Clarke sighed.

"Did you make it?"

She shook her head; "No someone special gave it to me."

Clarke couldn't keep the goofy grin off her face. Her eyes attached to the bracelet, entranced with memories of him- _of Bellamy._ She was hit by this intense wanting, like an ache in her chest that wouldn't go away.

"They must love you very much." Charlotte had looked away again shifting her focus back to her net.

The ache in Clarke's chest grew, like a gaping wound she couldn't sew up. _I miss him,_ she thought, _I miss him like the sun misses the moon._

Her voice came out like a plea when she answered, "He does."

As soon as the words left her lip Clarke was amazed by the trueness of them. She didn't have a single doubt in her mind when it came to Bellamy. She belonged to him and he belonged to her. It felt like it had always been that way. Like they had been rotating around each other their entire lives waiting to connect. _How did we end up here Bell?_ She wished she could hear his answer, and see his face, and feel his warmth. _How can we come so close and yet still be apart? Why couldn't I have just seen you earlier?_ The thoughts plague Clarke for the rest of the afternoon and far into the night.

She tires to picture what he would say in her mind. How he would open his arms to her like he always did. She thinks about how he always knew exactly what she wanted- even when she didn't know herself. He'd say, "Almost princess." As he kissed the top of her head, "Your almost there. Don't give up just yet." Clarke felt tears prick at the corners of her vision. God did she miss him.

Charlotte and her were hiding deep in the woods, both holding matching spears. Waiting for Murphy. It was Charlotte who had found the Nightlock amongst the grove of berry bushes. The younger girl had a berry almost at her lips when Clarke had grabbed her hand. They'd decided to tip their spires in the Nightlock berry juice. Even if they don't kill Murphy with the initial strike, he'll choke on the Nightlock in his blood stream.

The night was quiet as always, and Clarke's thoughts roared in her ears. She opened her backpack and pulled out the small white rectangular card, Bellamy had sent it down with the blood thickener, and she'd kept it safe all this time.

Clarke didn't care that all of Panam could probably see her, and how they'd all know how pathetically in love with him she was. It didn't matter to her because the moment her thumb traced his name the roaring in her ears stopped and she could think clearly again. He was like her guiding light in the dark; no matter how far apart they were she could always see him. _Was it possible that distance had made her want him more than she'd ever wanted another person in her life?_

"Clarke!" Charlotte's frantic whisper pulled her back to the present.

She could hear footsteps, Clarke's eyes turned to slits as she tried to see through the darkness, and than the snapping of vines.

"Awe fucking hell." Was muttered into the night air. Clarke shot Charlotte a sly smile _they had him_. Clarke noticed that Charlotte looked slightly sick when they rose from their hiding spot showing themselves to Murphy.

"Ah princess it's good to see you again. Sad for the prince to die though."

Clarke's eyes sharpened to daggers when he mentioned Wells. The princess remark held none of Bellamy's charm.

"You son of a bitch." She stormed Murphy spear raised as he dangled in the air.

"Whoa what's your problem?" His voice was mocking, and light like he hadn't killed Wells at all.

"Where's the knife murphy?" Clarke's voice was stern and dangerous she tittered on the edge of hysteria.

"What knife?" He looked over Clarke's shoulder at Charlotte.

"The one you used to kill Wells!" She stepped forward the point of the spear dangerously close to Murphy's pale arm.

"When I what?" Murphy shot forward in the net bringing his face close to Clarke's, his eyes looked feral to her.

"I hate to burst your bubble princess but I never killed Wells, somebody else did." He glared down at her.

"I know what you did and your going to pay for it." She brought the spear down so she was face to face with him, her voice dangerous.

"I didn't kill your precious prince, Clarke."

"Yes you did! You hated Wells, you threatened him." Clarke was screaming now, vibrating with anger.

"Plenty of people hated Wells." Murphy scoffed at her never blinking.

"Yeah and you were the only one who was hunting him down."

Murphy rolled his eyes, "And I didn't kill him. Look if I wanted him dead that bad I'd have done it earlier."

"I should kill you for everyone else than. God knows you deserved it." Clarke's voice sharpened, she brought her face within inches of his.

"I. Did. Not. Kill. Wells." He was so close she could smell his breath.

"I could kill you right now. One swipe of my spear and you'd be dead in seconds."

"You don't have the guts." He sneered at her.

"Oh you want to bet on it?" In a fast movement Clarke pulled her arm back, preparing to stab her spear forwards.

"STOP! STOP!" Clarke pulled back at the sound of Charlottes voice. Murphy grinned evilly down at her. 

Clarke hadn't even realized Charlotte had stepped back. She was dangerously close to the edge of the cliffs.

"Charlotte step away from the edge!" The little girl only shook her head at Clarke, tears forming in her eyes.

"I did it! It was me! I killed Wells." She looked ever like the frightened little mouse Clarke had thought of when they first met.

Clarke took a step towards Charlotte cautiously like one would approach a spooked animal.

"Are you going to kill the little rat now?"

"Shut up Murphy. She's just a little girl." Clarkes didn't turn when she spoke to the hanging boy, instead facing Charlotte.

"Wake up Clarke! You're in the Hunger Games no one is innocent anymore. She's as much a killer as the rest of us." Murphy shouted as Clarke moved closer towards Charlotte.

"Why Charlotte? Why would you do that?" Clarke's voice had gotten softer-quieter, pleading with the younger girl.

"To-to make the nightmares stop." Charlotte looked at the ground, her tiny hands shaking.

"Charlotte you can't just kill someone to make yourself feel better!" Clarke felt like a mother scolding a bad child.

"Oh your quick to kill me, but you'll let her go? She killed Wells Clarke!"

Clarke ignored Murphy's comment speaking only to Charlotte, "Wait we can talk about this."

Charlotte took another step closer to the edge of the cliff; "I can't let you kill him, not because of me. Not because of what I did."

Everything slowed down in Clarke's mind. Charlotte turned in one fluid motion and Clarke knew what was going to happen.

"CHARLOTTE NO!" Clarke leaped towards the young girl. The back of Charlottes braid bounced in the wind as she turned.

Charlotte pushed off the edge of the cliff, flinging her body into the air. In one second Clarke could see her flying and the next she was falling. When Clarke looked over the edge of the cliff Charlotte was already buried beneath the waves. Murphy's thunderous roars of curse words drowned out the deafening cannon boom.

Clarke stayed silent still trying to understand what had just happened. She didn't move from her spot on the side of the cliff, her spear left abandoned behind her. The helicopter came and went lifting Charlotte's blue and purple bloated body from the sea. When Clarke finally turned back around the grass net was broken and Murphy was gone, so was Clarke's Nightlock dipped spear. In a daze Clarke wandered back into the woods, her eyes unfocused as names like Wells and Charlotte slipped from her lips. She looked like a lost girl- no she _felt_ like a lost girl.

*******

"Your brother looks worried."

Octavia huffed, "He's always worried these days."

She stood next to Lincoln at yet another party Snow made all the mentors attend. With the same bubbly capital woman and the same sickly sweet drinks.

"He's staring at that screen like it holds something very special to him."

Octavia looked towards her brother. She had to agree he really did look worried. His shoulders were tense and his hands shook slightly, something that had only started up again once Clarke left. Even though she could only see his back she could tell his face held some type of self-loathing scowl.

Octavia let out a sigh, "Maybe it does."

Lincoln raised his eyebrow at her, "Maybe it's a _who_ not a what."

Octavia smirked at him she sometimes forgets how observant he was. Lincoln was silent yes- but that didn't mean he wasn't watching everything.

"We all do stupid things when were in love."

Lincoln turned to her his eyes suddenly intense, startling her.

"And you? Do you love someone?"

Octavia suddenly found it hard to breath, "Someday I wish to be so lucky."

Lincoln nodded once before turning away. And Octavia regained the ability to breath, her heart beating wildly in her chest. _I wish to be that lucky with you,_ she thought but didn't say.

*******

Clarke ran through the woods her feet comprehending her motion before her mind. She could see _them_ everywhere. Wells and Charlotte, their figures blinked back at her as she careened wildly through the undergrowth. They followed her silently. Behind every tree or tucked by a berry bush they waited for her.

They never spoke and they never approached they were simply there. Watching. Clarke tried not to look at them. She could see Wells bloody neck and sometimes the droplets turned the ground red. Charlotte looked just as bad with her blue skin and her purple lips.

"GO AWAY!" She screamed. The figures said nothing.

Clarke continues to run and run and run. Branches and leaves and thorns brushed at her face and her skin. Still they followed. Their eerie eyes trained on her. She hated them. She wanted them gone. She hated herself for wanting them gone even more.

It was still dark when she found the cave or rather she stumbled upon it still in a haze. The figures didn't follow her inside, for that she was thankful. Clarke thought she was alone when she felt a sticky substance rub against her hand. She brought her fingers up to her face and in haled the smell of iron and rusted copper. _Blood._ Her eyes widened as she took in the cave, it was still dark but light from the early morning sunrise was starting to filter in. She could just make out a shape in the far corner off to the side. The figure looked to be laying on the ground their back leaning up against the cave wall.

"Who's there?" Clarke tried to keep her voice from shaking.

"Clarke?" The voice sounded cracked and throaty but Clarke could still pick out a hint of bravado in it.

"Finn?" Clarke approached the figure.

Finn turned his head towards her, the early morning light illuminating him. Clarke let out a gasp when she saw all the blood. She halted in her steps trying to figure out how to continue.

"That bad huh?" Finn cracked a sweaty eyebrow at her, confident smirk still in place, although Clarke could see fear in his eyes. _He's afraid to die._

Clarke approached him cautiously evaluating the wound and going over possible scenarios in her head about how to fix it. She poked the wound cautiously with her fingers, there were angry red lines and yellow puss coming from the center.

Finn rolled his eyes, "Don't worry Clarke I know a lost cause when I see one."

Clarke shook her head pulling her hands away, "No. I ca-I can fix this. Maybe Bellamy will send- we could heal you." Her thoughts came out in splintered increments.

Finn knocked his head back against the cold stone, "Jesus! God Clarke do you see any silver parachutes coming for me? Clearly they both picked a side and it wasn't mine."

Clarke narrowed her eyes at him, "Oh and you think it's my fault? I didn't ask for this Finn."

Finn just shook his head again closing his eyes, "It's not your fault."

"What do you want me to do?" Clarkes voice sounded defeated.

"Will you just sit next to me? I don't want to die alone."

Clarke nodded silently and moved to lean against the wall to Finns right side. Neither spoke for a while, partly because Clarke couldn't think of anything to say. _What do you say to a dying person?_

"Is that your token?" Finn gestured to Clarke's bracelet.

"Hmm? Yes." Clarke didn't elaborate more but Finn seemed to understand regardless.

"Did he make it for you?" Finns voice had gotten quieter, more hallow.

Clarke nodded, neither of them needing to discuss whom the 'he' referred too.

Finn turned his head to smile at Clarke; his eyes seemed more distant then when she'd first entered the cave.

"Do love him?" His eyes were too intense for her.

Clarke looked away, "It doesn't matter. Love doesn't matter here." _You never said no, Clarke._

Finn shook his head, "You're wrong. It's the _only_ thing that matters in a place like this." His voice sounded like it was underwater. Clarke knew he wasn't going to last long.

"No," She smiled sadly at him, "getting home is."

Finn closed his eyes; his breathing had become hollowed Clarke thought he'd lost the strength to speak.

"Not if..." Finn took a deep breath, " you have no one waiting for you when you get there."

Clarke stared at him, unable to respond. Finn turned his head away, his hands shaking slightly as his breathing became increasingly more erratic. Clarke did the only thing she was capable of; she hummed. Tune after tune, song after song until his breathing finally slowed. She didn't stop until she saw the last exhale of his chest and the sound of the cannon boom.

"Yu gonplei ste odon." Your fight is over, she says out loud as she plants a kiss on Finn's clammy forehead.

When Clarke exists the cave and doesn't look back, Charlotte and Wells figures are nowhere to be seen. The early morning sunshine is filtering down through the tree leaves and for the first time since she entered the games Clarke feels hope. And then the tidal wave hits.

_Neverland is home to lost girls like me_

_And lost girls like me are free_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First let me just say: SORRY FOR THE CLIFF HANGER! Second: sorry for no Bellamy this chapter, I promise he'll be in the next one don't worry. Third: how'd you guys like that Linctavia snippet? More from them in later chapters I promise ;) The song is called Lost Boy by Ruth B. I changed the lyrics from boy to girl to fit the chapter better. -AM


	11. Supernova

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke must fight to survive a tidal wave. Bellamy has a chat with a snake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY GUYS!!!! So season 3 just ended...and anyone who watched the show definitely saw that Bellarke hand holding ;) So this chapter was inspired by that, also I just needed some bellarke love so enjoy this chapter I know i did while writing it! -AM

_You taste like sunshine_

_Just like you've been kissed_

_By the morning light_

 

_And I was the darkness_

_Dancing with the stars_

_Carelessly, breathlessly_

Clarke could feel the dampness in the air and the smell of salt hit her nose. When she turned her head gone were the thoughts of hope replaced by terror and fear. She could see the crest of the waves hitting just above the treetops. The wave was on her before she could even run. The water swept her up and off her feet. The current was too strong for her to fight.

The water carried her through the forest as Clarke struggled to keep her head above water long enough to fill her lungs with air. The current whipped and dragged her around under the water. The carcasses of fallen tress and debris surged in the waters wake. They bashed her side and her legs, as Clarke tried again in vain to swim to the surface. The water had turned muddy and brown, the light piercing the surface as her only clue to what was up and what was down.

Clarke kicked desperately towards the trickle of light her lungs screaming in pain, like a giant weight lay upon them. She felt her hand breach the waters surface first, the cool wind kissed her wet skin. Her head was next as she took a desperate gulf of air her lungs finally filling. Clarke turns her head just as another swell hits; she sucks in a deep breath before the wave is pulling her under again. This time she doesn't fight it, she lets the wave carry her- lets it push and pull and finagle her body below it's turbulent waters. Slowly the water around her clears, the brown being replaced by blue, almost like the wave had dropped her in the middle of the ocean. The water calmed, the current releasing her from its strong grip, and Clarke began to kick towards the surface, _almost there..._

Suddenly she was pulled to the right her head smacking against the sharp edge of a rock. Clarke saw the blood before she felt, the red liquid swirling around her harsh against the light blue water. Black spots appeared at the corners of her vision as she tried to make sense of what happened.

She felt it again, a pull on her right foot. Something was pulling her down. Clarke tipped her head slightly trying to see through the water and the layers of murk in her mind. Her eyes widened as she took in not what but who had a hold of her leg. Clarke screamed, the sound hidden by the water around her.

Murphy looked more lethal than she'd ever seen him before. His eyes regarded her with malice, his mouth a thin blunt line. There were tiny little cuts all over his face; she could see the beginning of a purple bruise on his neck, like something big had hit him there. Just above the bruise was a seeping cut, the red swirls of blood entranced her as she tried to focus. _I'm going to die,_ she knew, _he's going to kill me._

Clarke lungs began to struggle again, she needed air, she needed space, she needed by far away from here- from him. Clarke struggled again as Murphy tried to smash her against the rock, her left foot connected with his jaw. Bubbles erupted from his mouth as his head twisted away, his grip on her foot loosened enough that Clarke was able to pull away.

Debris from the tidal wave still swirled around her; sharp sticks, pieces of metal and rock fell through the water all around them.

As Murphy grabbed for her again this time his arms tried to work their around her neck. Clarke reached out desperately for anything. Her fingers latched onto a piece of metal, probably torn from the side or the cornucopia as it zipped through the water to her left.

Murphy's hands closed around her neck as Clarke's vision began to swim, the dark spots taking over as Murphy choked the life out of her. Everything happened in slow motion. Clarke brought her left hand up to the cut on Murphy's neck. She could see his carotid artery, which lies just beside it, running from his ear down to his neck. In that last moment Clarke remembers her mother telling her about it, how a person can die in seconds if it were cut. Clarke stabs the metal into the side of his neck severing the artery completely. Murphy's eyes bulge as he realizes what she's done; he releases his hands from around her neck, he beings to splutter and spasm as the blood leaks from the gash.

Murphy tries to reach towards her once more, his eyes almost looked betrayed. She'd taken this from him; she'd taken his chance to be remembered. Clarke's head breached the water only for a second she hears the final cannon boom and than her vision finally blurs and she's gone lost in a memory she didn't even know existed.

The day Bellamy Blake's name is called Clarke feels hallow. She's standing with the other twelve year olds, her hair is down for once and she's got on the nicest dress her mother had ever bought her. Clarke remembers distinctly that is was blue with a white sash. She remembers her mother saying, "You must look your best today, Clarke. We must uphold the values of District Four," Abby had spoken crisply while she smoothed out the shirt of the dress and sent Clarke on her way to the reaping. Only now does Clarke see how her smile fades and her fingers twitch as she watches her daughter stride away.

There is a rustle in the crowd to her left as the boy whose name was called emerges from the pen of fourteen year olds. Clarke remembers that he looked terrified, as his eyes swept over the girls pen where she stood. She knows now that he was looking for Octavia probably more scared for her than for himself.

Instead of finding Octavia his eyes lock with hers. A part Clarke knew it was the boy from the cave immediately- the boy she'd almost forgotten. His brown eyes hold hers, and Clarke could sense something different swirling in the chocolate pits. It was a deep and pure thing that Clarke to this day still can't quite put a name on. For the briefest of seconds Clarke feels her body make a move towards his, it's not much just a slight shift to her left. Bellamy does the same, he moves as minutely as she, a slight scuffle of his feet. A feeling Clarke can only describe as yearning passes through her. Clarke wants to reach out; she wants to touch the tips of her fingers to his. Bellamy never drops his eyes, and he never says a word.

Then a peacekeeper thumps him on the back, pushing him forward. Bellamy turns his head away; his brown curls replace his eyes. Clarke stares frozen on the spot as Bellamy takes his place on the stage. His eyes don't find hers again, a part of Clarke is scared what she'd do if they did.

The memory blurs as Clarke blinks her eyes open. There are people standing over her- strange people. They have surgical masks over their faces. One of them see's that she's awake. Clarke wants to ask them what's wrong, _where is she? Where is Bellamy?_

Clarke sees rather than feels as one of the nurse's lifts up her arm a thin needle poised in her other hand.

"Wait no-" Clarke doesn't finish her sentence before the woman plunges the needle into a vein on the top of her hand. Clarke's eyes get blurry and her mind becomes foggy and slow. Then she see's him-Bellamy- except it isn't him. A part of her knows he can't really be here, but that doesn't mean she won't suck up any comfort she can from him. The truth is whether he's real or not Clarke still needs him. Clarke reaches her hand out towards him.

"I'm scared Bell." Clarke thinks she's crying but she can't tell anymore. Her vision is already swimming. _I can't lose you,_ she desperately wants to say but her mouth won't open.

Bellamy reaches forward and pushes his hand flesh up against hers like she had wanted to do in the memory so that their hands measured up against each other. His fingers were wider and covered in more callouses hers were slender and softer. Clarke could see small scratches adorning the top of her hand.

"I know princess. I'm scared too", He leaned forward to press a kiss to her forehead. When Clarke looks up at him, he's gone. Than a second later she's gone too, whatever the nurse injected into her arm lulling her back to unconsciousness.

The beeping from her heart monitor brings her back. She doesn't know how long she's been asleep for. Clarke sits up slowly taking in her surroundings. She's in what looks like a white hospital room. On the opposite wall from her stand a man and a woman, both have their backs turned to her, they seem to be leaning on a type of counter top arguing to each other. The woman has her hair piled haphazardly on the top of her head, in a sort of beehive shape. The man on the other hand had his hair gelled up into spikes like shape blades. Clarke thinks of metal and Murphy's face and his bulging eyes, and she feels sick to her stomach

Clarke lifts up her arm and pulls the IV from the inside of her wrist; the man and the woman still haven't turned around. Clarke's bare feet hit the frigid tile; it feels cool against the soft bottom of her foot. Clarke instantly remembers the cold feeling of the water all around her and the current pulling her down. Suddenly she can't breathe, she titters backwards hitting the metal edge of her hospital bed, a metallic clang sounding through out the room.

Clarke's eyes are wide and startled when the nurses turn around. They spring towards her trying to push her back onto the bed. But Clarke doesn't want that and she doesn't want them. She wants to be out of this room, she wants Bellamy.

Clarke pulls one of her hands free and uses it to knock the male nurse right in his jaw. He swears under his breath, but Clarke is already moving again. She pushes past the female nurse, trying to maintain her balance- her legs feel like jelly. She pulls open the door and than starts running down random hallways trying to get away- to get somewhere, anywhere. She can feel her heartbeat in her ears as she runs down a flight of stairs, that's when the alarms start blare around her. She runs faster. Her bare feet slapping against the tile floor, she can hear the shouts from personal and the pounding of boots too.

She's sure as hell not going back to that room without a fight; they'll have to take her kicking and screaming. She will not let them inject her again; she doesn't want to see the memories, she can't watch him leave again- can't stand the mere thought of it. Clarke veers widely around a corner and stops dead in her tracks. She see's him standing at the end of the hallway next to Octavia.

"Bellamy!" She calls out.

*******

The elevator dinged open and Bellamy stormed down the extravagant hall. He bypassed the receptionist without a word.

"Mr. Blake!" She yelled, "You can't go in unannounced!"

She rounds her desk to stop him, but Bellamy is already pulling open the oak door. The gold doorknob gigging into his hands he's squeezing it so hard. Bellamy stomped into the room, the poor receptionist scrambling after him.

Inside directly opposite the door sits a large ornate desk. Behind it sits a man well into his seventy's with crisp white hair. He's wiping at some blood by the corner of his mouth with a napkin. The patch pocket of his jacket carries a white rose.

"I'm sorry President Snow, he barged right in."

"That's quite alright Clarisse, I'm sure Mr. Blake meant no offense." Snow says the last part while looking Bellamy straight in the eye. Clarisse nods as she leaves, the wooden door closing softly behind her.

"Take a seat Mr. Blake." Snow gestures to the ornate chair in front of his desk. Bellamy doesn't move from his spot in the middle of the room.

Snow takes a seat behind his desk choosing to ignore Bellamy clear action of disrespect.

"Where is Clarke?" Bellamy's tone is harsh and strong, his hands in fists by his sides.

President Snow sighs, "Mr. Blake the whereabouts of Miss Griffin are of none of your concern-"

Bellamy cuts him off, "I want to know where she is right now and I want to know why you won't let me see her."

"Don't be rude." Snows voice had gone sharp. Bellamy knew he was toeing a very fine line. Snow gestured once again towards the seat in front of his desk. This time Bellamy complied.

"Now Mr. Blake we had a deal." Snow observes Bellamy evenly.

"I'm well aware of our deal, I have kept up my end." Bellamy's fisted hand shakes slightly under the table.

"Yes I understand that."

"Where is Clarke? It's been two days since the end of the games. Where are you keeping her?"

"Miss. Griffin is still at the capital hospital. It seems her head injury needed more attention then expected."

"I want to see her."

Snow nodded, "And so you shall."

Bellamy rose from his seat and moved towards the door, his hand grabbed at the gold knob.

"Oh Mr. Blake I'm not quite finished." Bellamy turned to look at Snow over his shoulder. The old mans snake eyes teaming with a sinister expression.

"Our agreement was that you please my clients. But you see with all these rumors involving you and our newest victor, people are becoming displeased."

Bellamy gulped as Snow continued, "You see they don't want to buy the services of a man already pledged to another woman."

"I don't understand, what do you want?"

Snow gazed down at a vase filled with Roses his fingers brushing over the delicate petals, "What ever you do in private with Miss Griffin is your business. I ask that you keep it that way, and out of the publics eye."

Bellamy nodded again; _he wants us to pretend were not in love._ Bellamy tasted bile in his mouth.

Snow smiled, "We must keep my clients happy Mr. Blake."

"Yes sir."

"Good I'm glad we have an understanding,"

Snow gave him a sinister smile, "I would hurry Mr. Blake you don't want to leave Miss Griffin waiting now do you?"

Bellamy shook his head in answer not trusting himself to speak.

That's how Bellamy had arrived at the hospital two hours ago with Octavia in tow. He'd been pacing ever since. They both stood at the entrance to a hallway next to the reception desk. The hospital was keeping Clarke in a private wing, away from the public. Bellamy and Octavia weren't allowed past the desk. Snow had sent along several peacekeepers to make sure Bellamy followed that rule.

"Bell would you stop?" Octavia tapped her foot on the ground.

Bellamy ignored her and continued pacing, "What if she's hurt O? I'll kill them if they land a hand on her-"

His sentence was cut off as the alarms blared to the life. The peacekeepers assembled throughout the room set off in groups down different hallways, without saying a word to Bellamy or Octavia.

They were both left confused trying to figure out what to do next when Bellamy heard his name shouted from behind him. He knew that voice, been dreaming about it for years. Bellamy whipped his head around. And there she was standing at the other end of the hallway hair disheveled in a white hospital gown, but alive.

"Clarke!" He yelled her name above the sound of the alarms.

Than she was running madly towards him and he was doing the same, it was like he was tethered to her and the line kept getting shorter pulling them together. They were like two burning stars on a collision course, crashing together to become a supernova. The after shock from their explosion could crumble planets. Clarke leaped into his arms, pushing her face into the crook of his neck. Bellamy wrapped his arms around her waist pulling her carefully against his chest. He felt Clarke sigh into his shoulder. _Never again,_ he thought, _no one was going to separate us again._

A solemn tear rolled down his cheek. He'd never wanted to hold someone so much in his life. Even with her flesh against him she still felt too far away. Bellamy wanted to hold onto her forever. He wanted to kiss every inch of her skin; he wanted to tell her every single thought he'd held back. But Clarke whispered his name like a prayer against his skin and his mind went blank. All he could do was hold her in his arms his mind abuzz with happiness. _This is it,_ he thinks, _this is home._ Bellamy closed his eyes and inhaled the scent of her hair, Clarke still smelled faintly of cocoanuts.

Clarke pulled back first not staring at his eyes but at his lips. Bellamy could see hunger in them too- a hunger for him. He looked at her plump bottom lip and felt a certain urge to bite it. Bellamy cupped under her chin tipping it up towards his mouth. He swore the ground shook under his feet when their lips met. She tasted like every dark thought he'd ever had. Bellamy was addicted to her. It seemed like he was having the same effect on Clarke who had tangled her hands into the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling their faces ever closer to each other. It was like he was combusting and being reborn at the same time. He was absorbed in her, in her essence, in her smell, in the feel of her lips on his mouth and her body weight leaning against him. She filled him up, and he'd never felt so whole in all his life.

They pulled back at the same time to breathe. Clarke's pupils were blown wide and her lips were swollen red. He could hear his own heartbeat pumping erratically in his chest.

Bellamy reached his finger forward pressing lightly to her swollen bottom lip, "Beautiful." He whispered to her.

Clarke smiled and rose up on her toes to kiss him again. Bellamy smiled against her lips; _this is what heaven feels like._

_And our lips meet softly,_

_Color erupting in the atmosphere_

_The absolute lightest darkness_

 

_Dawn is breaking:_

_A fleeting moment_

_When the sun can kiss the moon_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SOOOOOOO WHO LIKED THE KISS????? Sorry it took so long, had to make you guys wait a bit;) Please leave a kudos/comment/ review they literally give me life! Anyways hope you guys liked this chapter. The next chapters may be posted more infrequently because I'm about to enter exam crazy time so I'll write whenever I can.


	12. Silent Promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where Clarke finds out...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! So first off you may have noticed that I did extend the story to 25 chapters, mostly because I thought the story needed longer to develop completely. So enjoy those extra couple chapter. This chapter does include some cute little bellarke fluff scenes because I was inspired by the season 3 finale. THE PART AT THE END WHERE CLARKE GRABS BELL'S HAND LITERALLY GIVES ME LIFE! As always please enjoy!-AM

_And I do believe it's true_

_That there are roads_

_Left in both of our shoes_

_But if the silence takes you_

_Then I hope it takes me too_

"This is your fault Bellamy Blake!" Octavia pointed an accusatory finger at him.

Bellamy smirked at her from his spot leaning against the back wall of Clarke's dressing room. He caught her eyes in the mirror and winked, she blushed scarlet red.

Glass pulled back a clump of Clarke's hair revealing a patch of purple bruised skin on her neck, "Look at this! How is Glass supposed to cover that up?" Octavia raised her eyebrow at him.

Clarke smirked at him in the mirror; Bellamy couldn't take his eyes off her. Just being on the other side of the room from her was driving him insane.

Octavia rolled her eyes, "Alright you," she pointed at Bellamy, "Out of the dressing room."

"What did I do?" Bellamy put on his most innocent expression; Octavia didn't even bat an eye.

"You're distracting Clarke, and the star eyed lover look is going to make me barf. Seriously get out." She pointed towards the door.

"Well why do you get to stay?" Bellamy crossed his arms over his chest, chancing a glance at Glass who looked very entertained with the argument.

"Because this is a woman's dressing room, and I am a woman." Octavia proclaimed proudly, while Bellamy scowled at her.

"Fine I'll go," Bellamy pushed off the back wall coming up behind Clarke's chair, "After I do this," he pecked a kiss on her cheek grinning smugly when he pulled away.

"Bye princess." He called over his shoulder as Octavia aggressively slammed the dressing room door shut behind him.

*******

Clarke twisted her hands nervously from her spot back stage. _Where the hell was Bellamy?_ The crowds cheers rose, as Clarke took an uneven breath her hands began to shake. She hears Caesars voice from on stage ramping up the crowd, getting them ready for her to come out. And Clarke knew what would happen when she went out there, Caesar would sit her down on a chair and the whole country would to see re-runs of major events from the games. She'd have to watch Wells and Charlotte and Finn and even Murphy die all over again.

Clarke subconsciously grabbed at her wrist, hunting for the rope bracelet. She pulled her hand back reluctantly when all she found was bare skin. While Clarke was at the hospital they had removed the bracelet, Clarke had cried when Bellamy first mentioned that it was missing from her arm. Even now her wrist felt empty, she found herself subconsciously seeking out the bracelet for comfort, only to be disappointed when her fingertips slid over her soft skin.

Clarke was on the verge of a panic attack when Bellamy finally showed up. He looked hurried with his hair ruffled and his breath coming out unevenly like he had been running.

Clarke stormed up to him smacking his arm forcibly, "Where were you?" Her voice sounded strange, like she was on the verge of tears or a mental breakdown. _Probably both._

"I got held up." He looked far too amused for Clarke's liking.

She glared at him, "Held up? What could possibly have held you up?" Her voice had raised an octave by the end. She grabbed at the hem of her dress hands shaking profusely.

"Clarke you need to breathe."

Clarke flashed back to her interview before the games when he'd said the same thing. She felt her body deflate as she dropped her head against his chest not caring that people could probably see them. She felt Bellamy sigh too before he brought his hands up to her back rubbing it gently. The motion calmed her, the heat of his hands bringing down her rising heart rate.

"I'm going to stand here just like last time, if it gets to be too much all you have to do is look at me. You can get through this, and than you get to go home."

Clarke shook her head, "Than _we_ get to go home." She looked up at him.

Bellamy smiled down at her, "Anything you want princess."

Clarke gave him a slow smile pulling at the corner of her lips, and knew she loved him- every piece of him.

Than Caesar was calling her name and Clarke pulled away from him about to walk onto the stage when he grabbed onto her wrist.

"Clarke wait," he said as he pulled something out of his pocket.

Clarke watched stunned into silence as Bellamy tied a rope bracelet around her wrist, Clarke stared at the glittering blue sea glass.

"This is why I got held up, I rushed to finish it." He brought a hand up rubbing at the back of his neck embarrassingly. A pink blush tinged his cheeks.

"Bell-" Clarke began but was cut off by his shush.

"Later." Clarke could hear the promise in his voice.

Caesar called out her name a second time as Clarke mounted the stage, feeling more powerful than ever.

Throughout the interview Clarke nodded and smiled all the while looking over her shoulder at Bellamy. He gave her little smiles and prompts with his hands like he had done before, Clarke's hands had stopped shaking.

Clarke sat very tense as the sound of her blade sliding against Wells neck rebounded in her ears. She could see Wells body spread out in front of her, blood still seeping from his cut neck. Her eyes went wide as she tried to control her breathing her panic rising; Charlottes weeping cries infiltrated her ears. Bellamy caught her attention over Caesars shoulder; he mimicked a deep breath while pointing to his wrist. Clarke did as he said; she ran a finger over the bracket trying to relieve the pressure built up in her lungs.

She kept her hand on the bracelet for the rest of the interview. Clarke turned away from the screen when Finn's face popped up. She ignored his shallow breaths, and she adverted her eyes when Finn began to speak- Clarke already knew what he was going to say, his words imprinted in her brain.

Instead she looked down at Bellamy bracelet. The rope was stiffer than the first one had been, but Clarke knew it would soften over time. The sea glass was a bright blue even with the harsh stage lights; _they match the colour of my eyes._

Clarke was pulled back to the present when Finn's voice came through the speakers, "Do you love him?"

Clarke looked over Caesar's shoulder at Bellamy. He had on a grey t-shirt and his hands tucked into his front pockets. His hair was tasseled in that sexy just got out of bed look that Clarke loved. She could hardly see his freckles in the dim light off stage but he was smiling at her and she wanted to run to him. He winked at her before Clarke turned her head away. _Yes Finn,_ she thought, _I love him._

Thankfully Caesar didn't ask her whom Finn was referring too; in fact he hardly asked her anything at all. In a blink of an eye the tidal wave had hit and Murphy had grabbed ahold of her leg. Clarke felt bile rise up in her throat when she watched as the blood spurted out of the wound on his neck.

Clarke chanced a glance at Bellamy but she found him taking an envelope from an avox. She recognized the round symbol of the avox's jacket- the presidential symbol. _This avox belongs to Snow._

Caesar grabbed Clarkes hand pulling her to her feet, the crowd erupted into cheers as she bowed. Than she was ushered quickly off stage and the whole thing was over, but Bellamy was gone. She searched for him but saw no trace of the boy.

Octavia soon appeared speeding Clarke back to the car and up to their apartment. When Clarke asked about Bellamy Octavia had shrugged and wouldn't meet her eye saying he had work to do for Snow. By the tone Octavia had used when she said the word 'work' it wasn't something pleasant, she remembered the smell of perfume on his skin their first night in the capital. Clarke felt a pit growing in her stomach. _Bellamy wouldn't – no couldn't- lie, not after everything we've been through together._

*******

When Bellamy got back to the apartment it was pitch black out. He didn't see Clarke when he first entered his room.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Bellamy froze at the sound of her voice, the muscles in his back tensing. She lay on the bed behind him.

He slowly turned around to look at her. Her hair was down, flowing in soft curls over her shoulder. She had on one of his big sweatshirts and a pair of pajama pants. She sat with a pillow hugged against her chest; she looked like she had been crying judging by the puffy red skin under her eyes.

Bellamy sighed running a hand through his hair, "I didn't want to hurt you."

Clarke got up from the bed throwing the pillow behind her, "Hurt me? Bell this isn't going to work if we don't tell each other things."

Bellamy closed his eyes but didn't answer her, he heard Clarke's soft footsteps making their way towards him on the plush carpet.

"Just tell me why." She pleaded with him.

Bellamy opened his eyes and stepped back when she tried to reach for him like he had been burned. A crease appeared between Clarke's eyebrows. _She's going to know what type of a monster I am._ Bellamy kept the distance between them when he spoke. _I can't have her hate me._

"I didn't want to lose you. I didn't want you to be repulsed by what I have to do." Clarke looked like she wanted to step forward and embrace him but she kept her distance. Bellamy tried not to look into her eyes when he spoke next.

"Snow has these clients that he likes to make happy...and they took a liking to me." Clarke stayed silent so Bellamy continued.

"At first it was small things like taking girls out on dates or dancing with them at parties, nothing serious. Than it turned from dancing to kissing. Until one night the note said for me to stay over at this woman apartment. It was okay for awhile, it was an easy choice to protect Octavia, and than you came around and it just got so hard."

Clarke's eyes had deflated as he spoke.

"How long Bell?" Her tone was sharp.

"Since I was 16."

"These notes, Snow writes them? He tells who to meet and where to go and you just do it?"

Bellamy nodded he still couldn't look at her- too afraid to lose her, to have her hate him.

"You still need to tell me why Bell."

Bellamy sighed focusing on the windows and not Clarke's probing gaze, his jaw tense.

"Because if I don't go, if I don't please his clients Snow will do the same thing to Octavia, and now you. He'll hurt the two of you, I ca-can't let that happen. Not you and not to Octavia."

Clarke took another step towards him but Bellamy pulled back further until his shoulder blades hit the back wall of the room, his hands tightened into fists.

"Just the idea of men running their hands over you, touching you when you don't want them too, when it's forced on you. I-I can't"

The muscles in Bellamy's shoulders and arms popping as he tried to remain calm, the images of Clarke blurred his vision.

"I can't let you be hurt like that because...because I love you." His voice sounded defeated, his hands unclenched, they hung loosely by his side. His eyes still downcast, but he knew Clarke would hear the struggle in his voice.

She approached him cautiously, getting close enough that he could smell her shampoo but making sure none of her body rubbed up against his.

"Bell look at me." Her voice was soft and smooth like the curl of a wave. Bellamy kept his eyes on the floor.

Clarke reached up slowly cupping under his chin and raising it to meet her eyes, Bellamy sucked in a breath when her cool fingers ghosted over the stubble on his chin. He held his breath, waiting. She pulls her hands away.

"You are not dirty. You are a good man, and I love you."

Clarke's eyes never wavered for a second. There was something hard and stubborn in them, like she won't be satisfied until he believes every word that she said. He feels warmth in them too, a deep comforting feeling that grips him to his core. Her eyes are pure and honest and she's looking at him the way someone would look at a god. With every second he gazes into her eyes he finds a thousand more things that he loves about her.

They stay like that for a long time staring at each other, bodies almost touching, and hands hanging down by their sides. Eventually Bellamy pushes off the wall and heads for his shower. He won't allow Clarke to touch him before that, not until he's scrubbed his skin raw so that any trace of the woman he was with is gone. He doesn't feel any cleaner when he steps out.

When he walks back into the bedroom he finds Clarke lying under the covers on his bed, her blonde hair spilling out over one of his pillows. She stares lazily at him, motioning for him to join her. He does. 

Bellamy pulls back the covers slowly sliding into the bed beside her so that they're facing each other. He stares at her for a minute, Clarke doesn't ask and she doesn't push for his contract, she simply holds his gave defiantly- daring him to push her away.

It's Bellamy who slips a hand around her waist and pulls her to him. She lays her head on his chest right over his heart. He draws slow circles with his fingers on her back lulling her to sleep. He stays like that watching her eyelids flutter while she dreams, and feeling her even breaths fan out over his chest. Eventually he falls asleep, he dreams of soft curls and sandy beaches, at peace for the first time in years.

*******

The next two days on the train are hard to say the least. Annora can't know about her and Bellamy being involved as Snow said so they have to act like they aren't. It had nearly driven Clarke mad, to watch him and talk to him but not be able to touch him- to kiss him, to ruffle his stupid hair. She hated every minute of it, of pretending there was nothing between them.

"Clarke look!" Octavia pointed out the side window.

Clarke gasped, they were almost home. She could see the sprawling beaches and jagged cliffs as the train sped by. She went up to the window; it was like she could smell the salt through the glass. She looked back at Bellamy who lay sprawled out on the couch. He came up beside her by the window carful to keep space between them.

The train sped by a mountain pass and over an elegant bridge and than Clarke could see the main square below them. She could see the baker shop and the dress shop, and even a little glimpse of where her house used to be. She'd live in Victor's Village now. _I'm home._ The thought sat bittersweet in her stomach.

"Welcome home princess." Bellamy whispered, his eyes never leaving the window.

Clarke smiled sideways at him; quickly she reached over and squeezed his hand. The motion was fast enough that anyone watching wouldn't notice. To someone else there hands would simply brush each other's as she passed by, but to her and Bellamy small touches meant everything.

The train came to a stop and Annora rushed around gathering everyone up and preparing them for their big entrance. She situated Clarke in the very front with Bellamy and Octavia behind her. The train doors whooshed open and Clarke stepped out onto platform. The applause was instantaneous. The crowd surged up to the platform, shouts and clapping ringing in her ears. Clarke eyed the numerous faces as she scanned for a woman with brown hair.

Abby Griffin stood in the very back observing her daughter on the stage. Clarke smiled at some of the younger kids as they reached their hands up to grab at hers. Clarke lifted her eyes again and looked out over the crowd, this time they locked with Abby's. Her mother's stance read tense, she had her hands behind her back in a stiff posture. Clarke wanted to call out to her, wanted to say something to fix what lay broken between them.

In slow motion Clarke heard the bullet shot ring out over the square, her eyes wide as her mother fell to the ground blood spraying from her head and onto the dirt beneath her feet. The crowd erupted into chaos and Clarke could hear someone screaming loudly right by her ears. She felt strong arms wrap around her middle, pulling back onto the train, she knew they belonged to Bellamy.

He held her shaking figure close to him, pressing her body into his chest.

"Clarke baby you have to stop screaming." He whispered gently into her ear.

Clarke stopped, focusing on her breathing. _I was the one screaming? That was me?_ She buries her face into Bellamy's shoulder letting the tears come because that's all she can do right now cry and hope the pain will go away.

  
_So brown eyes_

_I hold you near_

_Cause you're the only_

_Song I want to hear_

_A melody softly soaring_

_Through my atmosphere_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *EVIL LAUGH* Sorry about Abby, actually not really I don't like her character. Clarke's finally home! YAY! Please leave a kudos/ comment/ review on the story if you'd like, they really help me to keep writing for y'all. Until next chapter- AM


	13. Bittersweet Summer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Encompasses the months in-between Clarke's return and her victory tour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is so late, I've been crazy busy recently with finals approaching fast. I'm going to try and update as much as I can for u guys, so please stick with me! Anyways this chapter is angsty with some fluff so please enjoy -AM

_Ohana means family._

_Family means nobody gets left behind or forgotten_

"Dad!" Clarke squealed, her tiny legs struggling to keep her up right on the shifting sandy ground.

Jake Griffin pulled his only daughter into his lap she smiled up at him; her cheeks were tinged slightly pink from the sun.

"What are you doing out here Pumpkin?" He tapped the end of her nose.

Clarke looked guiltily down at the ground, "Mum wanted me to help her cook dinner."

Jake smiled knowingly at her, "And you decided building nets with me is more fun?" He ran a hand through her hair as Clarke nodded along.

The two were silent for a while as Clarke's chubby fingers moved the grass into position and Jake tightened the weave. It was quiet peaceful work with the ocean waves cresting in the background. Once the net was finished Jake busied his callused hands in Clarke's hair weaving and unweaving tiny braids while Clarke played with the sand.

"Dad?" Clarke didn't look up at her father.

"Hmm?" Jake pulled back a strand of Clarke's hair that had fallen in her face.

"You love mum right?"

Jakes fingers stilled in their braiding only for a second, like he was deciding something, "Yes I love your mother very much."

Clarke nodded, "And does she love you?"

Jake sighed, "Clarke why are you asking all these questions?"

Clarke turned in Jake's arms to face him.

"Because you don't show it like other parents do."

"Clarke, listen to me. Everyone shows love differently some people are more open about it than others. There are a thousand different ways to show someone you love them. You'll understand when you're older."

Clarke shook her head confused, "What will I understand?"

Jake sighed again turning Clarke back to face the ocean.

"One day you're going to meet someone who loves you more than anything else," He pressed a kiss on Clarke cheek causing her to giggle.

"And that person is going to make you their whole world. And when that happens- when you love someone more than you love yourself you will understand."

That night when Clarke's mother was tucking her into bed the little girl asked the same question.

Abby's lips purged and her eyes hardened in the corners.

Her voice dropped to a fearful whisper, "Clarke you remember this; love is weakness. In the world where we live it has no purpose."

Abby's words felt like stones being thrown against Clarke's skin. Brutal and cold, like the words themselves were leaving bruises.

Clarke stirred in her sleep, her mind returning to consciousness.

"Love is weakness." She mumbled against the couch cushion.

Bellamy who had been running his hand up and down her back stilled.

"What?"

Clarke shook her head trying to clear the murk from her mind.

"Love is weakness," She repeated this time loud enough for him to hear.

Bellamy's eyebrows knitted together, "Who told you that?"

Clarke shook her head at him, "Just something my mother used to say."

She got up to leave the room when Bellamy's arm reached out and pulled her back into his lap. The position was so similar to the one in her dream that it made Clarke shiver.

"Love is not weakness Clarke." His voice was smooth as silk.

"I know that." Clarke willed her voice not to shake; this was the most she'd spoken in a week since the shooting.

"Love makes you stronger. It was what brought you back to me in the games. We're both stronger together." He rested his head on top of hers.

"Together." Clarke repeated.

Clarke's voice shook when she spoke next, "I'm an orphan Bell. I don't have a family anymore."

"Hey, no. No." She turned in his arms letting her face rest in the crook of his neck. Her breathing was uneven; Bellamy could feel the tiny pinpricks of her tears through his shirt.

"You have a family and you have a home. Octavia and I are your family now. We all look after each other and protect each other. I'm you family okay? You will always have me."

He felt Clarke nod against his chest and some of the tension in her shoulders released. He rubbed slow circles around her back, until she stopped shaking and the tears dried.

"I love you." Clarke whispered into his ear

She finally thought she understood what her father had meant all those years ago. She'd found a person who was willing to not only become her world but build her one as well. _Together,_ she thought, _we could move mountains._

*******

Bellamy stands stiffly in front of the door to Clarke's house. He's wearing a brand new crisp white shirt and he's attempted to gel back his hair. When the front door opens Clarke emerges wearing a black dress with Octavia by her side, both move robotically towards him. Clarke was acting like she'd entered a dream state, looking but not really seeing what was in front of her. She entwines her arm with his immediately as he steers them towards the cemetery. None of them speak.

The funeral is short; the three move down the center isle slowly, Clarke has a reserved seat in the front but she makes Bellamy and Octavia sit on either side of her. No one says anything about it; in fact people barely look at Clarke at all. They avoid eye contact with her and quiet their voices when she nears. Bellamy grits his teeth to stop from screaming at them. His jaw tenses as he guides Clarke to her seat, she laces their fingers together.

Councilman Kane, the stand in mayor, planed out the whole event. There was a big tombstone placed next to Clarke's father, Jake Griffin. Abby's was larger and more highly decorated, no one commented on that either.

Clarke is asked to place a rose over Abby's coffin before it's lowered into the ground, but Clarke stays tense by Bellamy's side like she hadn't heard her name called at all. Bellamy does nothing to make her get up; he tenses when Kane frowns at them. Kane hurries the ceremony on, trying to pull the audience attention away from Clarke.

A choir sings the traditional District Four poem, the same one Bellamy and Clarke recited before she left for the games. Clarke has a death grip on his hand when the last line rings out across the cemetery. She mouths the words back at the choir, _may we meet again,_ and Bellamy does the same their lips moving in sync. A singular tears trails its way down Clarke's cheeks and gathers at the base of her chin. Bellamy wipes it away with his finger and Clarke's eyes snap to his, like his touch had pulled her from her dazed state. Clarke mouths his name and he mouths hers back. They stay like that staring at each other, Clarke refusing to watch her mother being lowered into the ground.

"Yu gonplei ste odon." Kane says as the gravediggers begin to cover the coffin in dirt. The crowd repeats the words back at him.

"Your fight is over." Bellamy hears Clarkes voice shaky and scratchy by his ear.

She is looking at the hole rapidly filling with dirt, the hole that holds what's left of her mother. For the first time since the shooting he sees a little light in the corner of Clarke's eyes. For whatever reason being here and seeing her mother buried has brought some part of her back.

"I loved my mother." Clarke whispered to him later that night when they were both laying side by side on the beach.

Bellamy nodded his head but he didn't say anything. He could sense that she wasn't quite finished talking yet.

"My mother was a complicated woman. She loved my father even though she seldom showed it. She loved me even when she ignored me. And than my father died and I couldn't even look at her." She glared up at the stars like they had personally offended her.

"My mother killed my father, and than she pretended like everything was fine. For a while I pretended I was blind to it as well. But you can't stay that way forever. I just thought that once I'd won the games we could work things out...talk about everything."

Bellamy reached over and took her hand.

"I never got that. I never got to say goodbye. It just feels so... incomplete."

Clarke looks back up at the stars, silent. Bellamy rubs the pad of his thumb in slow circles over the top of her hand.

"I never said goodbye to my mother either." Clarke turned her head towards him. Her eyes were a murky blue.

"One night she just didn't come home. I found her two days later tucked behind some trash in an ally."

"How old were you?"

Bellamy sighed, "fourteen."

His mind was suddenly very far away watching the memories of that day play out in front of them. Seeing her brown shoes sticking out between the garbage bags, having to tell Octavia, shaking so bad he couldn't move. In a blink of an eye he's back on the beach with Clarke.

She nodded but didn't add anything else. Together they looked back at the stars above. Bellamy longed to be up there to forget the problems of this world- of Snow.

"Bell will you tell me a story?"

Bellamy sighed lifting his arms back behind his head.

"There was once a beautiful princess who lived in a tall, tall, tower..."

Clarke rolled her eyes but she didn't stop him.

"And this princess never came down from her tower except for one night when she met a peasant boy in a cave." His voice was deep and sultry.

Clarke turned her head to look at him, her eyes were alight on the dark beach, and they reflected everything.

"And what happened when they met in this cave?" Clarke sat propped up on her elbow her blonde hair falling over her shoulder and eyebrow raised in question. To Bellamy she looked like an angel.

"They wished on a shooting star."

Clarke's lips tipped into a slow smile as she closed the distance between them with her lips.

*******

Clarke froze in the middle of cleaning the dishes when the phone on the wall rang.

"Bell!" She yelled as the ringing continued.

Each house in Victors Village had one phone, probably the only phones in all of District Four. That phone was a direct line to the President Snow's office. The one in Clarke's house had never rang before, except for right now. A pit of dread filled in her stomach.

Bellamy entered the kitchen hair still damp from his shower. His jaw tightened when he heard the ringing from the phone attached to the kitchen wall.

He reached forward first taking the phone off its ringer and putting it up to his ear.

"Hello?" Clarke watched his jaw pop as Bellamy wordlessly handed the phone to her.

"Yes?" Clarke tried to keep her voice devoid of emotion.

"Miss Griffin." President Snow's voice sent shivers down Clarke's spine.

"President Snow." She tried to keep her voice from sounding like a cornered mouse.

"I'm calling because as you know the victory tour starts in less than a week."

Bellamy rubbed his hands up and down Clarke's arms resting his head on her shoulder trying to ease some of her tension.

"I want to make sure we still have an _understanding._ "

Clarke's voice was chilled as she questioned him, "An understanding?"

"Yes the one Mr. Blake and I made after your Games."

Clarke nodded her muscles tense, "the agreement still stands." Her voice was weak.

"Excellent," she could hear the curl of his tongue when he spoke, "I hope you enjoyed the summer Miss Griffin, it is time to return to the spotlight once again. The Games must continue."

His words sounded dark and sinister to her like a threat. Clarke gulped but before she could reply the phone had gone dead and the Presidents voice rang out no more. Clarke felt hollow when she tucked the phone back into its receiver.

"It never ends," She whispered to Bellamy as she slumped into a seat by the kitchen table.

"Even when you win, your still just a fly in his trap." Clarke ran a hand through her hair exasperated.

"Nobody ever wins the games. Period. Clarke. There are survivors, but no winners." Bellamy sank defeated into a chair across the table from her.

_This is my family._

_I found it, all on my own._

_Is little, and broken, but still good._

_Ya. Still good._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Stitch is probably one of my fav disney characters so I just HAD to include a quote from him. The cave scene also comes back later in the fic... so look forward to that! How'd you guys like this chapter? Please leave a kudos/ comment/ review! -AM
> 
> PS: Anyone else catch that Hunger Games quote at the end? ;)


	14. The Moon and The Gods Above

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke's Victory Tour...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyyyyy! So this chapter was actually A LOT of fun to write. I got to introduce some new characters that I know you guys will love. I'd also just like to say thank you to anyone who writes comments at the end of every chapter, you guys are all amazing and you make me keep writing so thanks! As always please enjoy -AM

_Time stands still_

_Beauty in all she is_

_I will be brave_

_I will not let anything take away_

_What's standing in front of me_

_Every breath_

_Every hour has come to this_

 

_One step closer_

 

"Oh Clarke!" Came a high pitched shrill voice from her front door.

"We've missed you so much." Came the equally annoying voice of her twin sister.

Sherbet and Éclair were on her in seconds engulfing her in a hug filled with frizzy hair and the smell of hairspray. Glass stood behind them patiently waiting, although she did smirk at Clarke's obvious gag to the colorful girls perfume. When she was released Glass pulled her in for a real hug. Clarke sighed; she'd really missed the blonde haired girl over the summer. Although Clarke remarked Glass's hair was practically white now and with her enhanced blue eyes she looked striking.

"Okay," Annora clapped her hands together, "We must get started, and the show is only in a few hours!" She quipped at all of them.

For the first time Clarke missed Bellamy, he had been exiled back to his house just before her prep team had arrived. Now that they were here, both her and Bellamy must keep up the pretense that there's nothing between them. Except for Glass the entire prep team had to be kept in the dark.

For the next three hours Clarke sat sequestered in a chair while Sherbet and Éclair waxed, buffed, rinsed, and polished her entire body. Clarke was so used to being naked around them she wasn't even self-conscious anymore. The whole time they babbled incessantly about their petty lives in the capital and how upset they were that they had missed one party or another while being here in District Four. Clarke resisted from rolling her eyes as she smiled and nodded along to the whole thing. Clarke was insanely jealous of Glass who got to work on her dress for the show downstairs with Bellamy.

It was an intense relief when Glass appeared fabric slung over her shoulder and shuffled the two other stylists out and into the hallway. Clarke finally had room to breath again.

Glass settled Clarke in front of a mirror and began to fix her hair and makeup. All the while she was silent but it wasn't uncomfortable. Glass hummed under her breath while she worked sculpting each piece of Clarke's hair into place.

"That's beautiful," Clarke sighed, "where did you learn it?"

Glass smiled at her showing her perfectly straight teeth, "My mother used to sing it for me."

"I didn't know mothers in the capital were that attentive to their children."

Glass nodded, "Most aren't but my mother wasn't born in the capital."

Clarke's eyes widened, "Did she desert her district?"

Glass shook her head, "No. She won her games," Her eyes locked on Clarke's.

"Dragon fire veins," Clarke whispered in wonder at Glass.

Glass nodded, "That's what she used to tell me every night before bed." She pulled a curl back away from Clarke's face.

"She used to say that's how she won her games, she had dragon fire in her veins."

Clarke was silent again and Glass went back to humming her song so caught up in the tune she didn't notice the strange look in Clarke's eyes.

*******

"How's she doing?" Bellamy came up next to Glass as they looked out at the stage.

Glass sighed, "She's definitely not as empowering as you are in your speeches."

"Maybe she needs some one on one lessons," Glass smirked at him.

Bellamy rolled his eyes at her, "This needs to go well."

Bellamy already knew first hand what could happen if Snow wasn't pleased.

"It will, if she just follows the script and smiles she'll do fine. Besides this is only District 9 it'll matter a whole lot more in the capital."

Octavia came up behind him, "Breath big brother you're scaring the rest of us."

"O this is serious! You know what happens when Snow isn't happy."

Octavia glares up at him, "You know I know that! I remember what happened to Atom Bell. I'm not stupid."

Bellamy looked away from her crossing his arms over his chest and watching Clarke's back on the stage.

Octavia huffed at him, "Fine don't listen but Bell if you and Clarke are trying to pretend you're not in love standing like she is your personal mission isn't working." She tossed over her shoulder as she walked away.

Light applause from the crowd echoed back stage and than Clarke was standing in front of him with a withdrawn look in her eyes that made something in Bellamy just snap.

"You need to do better." His voice was like steel.

Clarke gaped at him her eyebrows knitting together, "What?" Her voice was challenging and Bellamy knew he was toeing a very small line. He grabbed her hand and pulled her around to the side of the building.

"You need to do better at convincing these people." He gestured back to the square filled with people.

Clarke stepped into his space placing her face inches from his, "I'm trying my best. What is your problem?"

Bellamy's blood surged in his ears, "My problem is that we've done this at three districts and you have yet to improve."

Bellamy stepped closer to Clarke pushing her back against the bricks of the city hall building.

"Why don't you try reading these speeches and see how you do!" She screamed at him, a vein popping in her forehead.

"I have read them! I won the games too Clarke."

Clarke visibly deflated at his words, "Can't you see I'm trying Bell? I'm trying so hard." She had tears in the corner of her eyes.

Bellamy ran a hand through his hair, "Don't you get it Clarke? I can't protect you out there." His head fell to her shoulder.

"What do I need protection from?" Clarke ran a hand through his hair.

"Snow." He mumbled into her shoulder, leaving a light kiss on her pulse point.

"Bellamy!" Clarke hissed, she tried to push him away looking around anxiously to see if they'd been followed.

Clarke huffed when Bellamy kissed the same spot on her neck again.

"We'll figure this out together okay?" Clarke spoke softly to him.

Bellamy still didn't answer, this was the closest they had been in almost a week and it was killing him.

"Together." He echoed, his forehead leaning against hers. Clarke smirked at him.

"You and this red dress," His hand grazed her upper thigh as he rubbed the end of the fabric between his fingers, "have been driving me crazy all morning."

Clarke smirked at him, "Mr. Blake I don't think this talk is appropriate for a mentor tribute relationship."

Clarke slipped her hands inside his t-shit running them up and down his back. Bellamy groaned against her shoulder. His fingers disappearing beneath the fabric of her skirt and trialing up her inner thigh.

Bellamy smiled down at her, "Miss Griffin I think we can make one exception." He pushed Clarke harder against the wall hungry for her lips.

One of Bellamy's fingers grazed against the side of Clarke's underwear, he felt her suck in a breath against his lips. He pulled back to see a question in her eyes. They had never gone this far before, never taken it to the next level. But looking at Clarke right now pupils blown wide, mouth slightly parted from their kiss, and desire evident in her eyes. It took everything in him not to take her right then and there.

Before either could press the matter Octavia careened around the corner looking all too amused at their current state.

"If you two are done with your lovers quarrel, we need to get back on the train."

She smirked at Clarke's red cheeks and both of their startled expressions. Octavia smiled coyly at her brother as he dropped his hand from Clarke's thigh. Bellamy gave her the finger in response.

*******

Clarke rose onto the stage at District Eight on shaky legs. She expected to see a family of boys with the same harsh eyes and girls with fierce smiles instead she found John Murphy's platform empty. It made her feel hollow and shame. Murphy didn't have a single person who missed him, not a single member of his family to come home to. _It's your fault he's not coming home ever Clarke._ She didn't look at his platform again while she repeated the same drowning speech Annora prepared for each district.

Even without looking up Clarke could still feel the piercing judgment of the people in the crowd- the people who knew exactly what she'd done. They'd watched her kill him in this very square on a big screen that had been set up high above where she stood. They'd watched her kill one of their own people. Every. Single. One. Of. Them.

Once she'd finished her poorly executed speech she turned and left the stage, light applause in her wake. Clarke didn't turn around to acknowledge Murphy's empty platform again; she had nothing to say to a dead boy.

"I don't think I can do it Bell." Clarke had whispered into his hair in one of their fleeting moments where they were alone a week later.

"You will do it because you have to." Bellamy had said in return.

"Breath and-"

"Be brave." Clarke finished the quote for him, her mind a thousand miles away back on the beach when the games and the victory tour didn't even exist in her head.

"Sometimes I wish we were like the gods in your stories." Clarke whispered as she trailed her fingers across the hard muscles on his back.

"Why?" Bellamy turned to face her.

"Because everything is simpler for them." Clarke said wistfully, her fingers moving in slow circles

Bellamy grabbed her hands, "Nothing is simple Clarke. I'm glad we're not like those stories."

"Why's that?" She crooked her head at him.

Bellamy looked her dead in the eye, "Because they always end tragically, and I don't want us to _ever_ end."

The next day Clarke climbed up onto the stage in District Three her hands clammy and her heart beating wildly in her chest. The crowd in front of the stage was large. The faces in front of her regarded her entrance with a variety of emotions. Some were impassive, others boarded on rage and deceit, but all were silent awaiting her carefully prepared speech.

Clarke approached the microphone slowly, the cards in her hand felt like ten-pound weights. She looked out at the two platforms next being unable to avoid not looking at them.

Charlotte's was empty, as Clarke had expected. Seeing her abandoned platform was a different feeling from Murphy's. She didn't feel shame or depression she felt pity. Because that little girl was all alone, a twelve year old taking on the world with no guidance. She had no one to hold her when the nightmares came, no one to reassure her, no one to give her hope, no one to cling too.

Clarke swallowed thickly her throat already feeling constricted. Wells's platform had one person standing directly in the center of it. Mayor Thelonious Jaha. Seeing the man now she can remember the multiple diplomatic visits he took to District Four. She remembers Councilman Kane's voice sounding through locked doors and her mother's stern voice joining his. But this man- the one who stood in front of her- was but a shadow of the tall dark skinned man she had vague memories of. This man looked defeated, sad and withdrawn like someone had taken all his light away. He catches her gaze with a hopeless drowning look.

Clarke's mouth feels dry as she looked down at the speech Annora had prepared. The insensitive words fill her with rage; she tucks the cards into a pocket of her dress. Clarke tipped her chin up to the crowd.

"My name is Clarke Griffin. I don't know most of you, but you all know me."

She looked over at Charlotte's platform first, "Charlotte was too young and too scared. She wrestled with inner demons that she was too little to even have. I wish I could've saved her from herself."

She turned to Thelonious Jaha next. For a strong man he looked very weak.

"Wells befriended me after a single conversation in training. He was very brave and exceedingly caring. I owe him my life, which is a debt I can never repay."

Clarke sucked in a deep breath, her tears blinding her vision for a moment. She spoke next to Thelonious directly.

"I wish," Clarke took another deep breath trying to open up her lungs, "I wish I could've brought your son home with me. He deserved to win."

The crowd was silent for what felt like an infinite amount of time as they hung on to her final words. Clarke struggled to remain standing the strength of their stares boring into her from all angles.

"Wanheda!" Someone in the center of the crowd yelled.

Clarke froze on the spot. Wanheda was a word from the native language of District Four; it meant _the commander of death._

A chant started as the crowd repeated the word over and over again low and deep in their throats. They gathered strength, the chant spreading to engulf the entire crowd.

"Wanheda, Wanheda, Wanheda, Wanheda..." On and on the word rang out through the square. People raised their fists in triumph at her, stomping their feet to the beat like an old native war cry they rallied behind.

Peacekeepers rushed forward their guns and batons raised threating at the rowdy crowd. The people in the crowd surged forewords to meet their attackers. The square broke out into chaos as people ran from left and right some trying to flee others ready for the fight. In the madness Clarke was grabbed by two Peacekeepers one on each arm as they hauled her from the stage and thrust her back in to the city hall building locking the doors behind them.

Clarke looked wide-eyed over at Bellamy, _what have I just done?_ Bellamy shook his head at her. She could see worry in his eyes, a deep-rooted fear rose to the surface. In the eyes of the people around her, Glass, Octavia, Annora, mirrored that of Bellamy's. _They are all afraid of Snow._

_You should be too,_ Bellamy's eyes spoke to her.

_I am,_ she answered.

*******

_I have died every day waiting for you_

_Darling, don't be afraid I have loved you_

_For a thousand years_

_I'll love you for a thousand more_

*******

The capital party was in full swing when they arrived. Hundreds of wildly dressed man and women mingled through the president's mansion each one dressed more strangely than the last. Clarke saw a woman with a colorful birdcage on the top of her head with a bright yellow bird trapped in it.

People screamed and clapped when she neared. It made Clarke want to run back to the train, but Bellamy's calming hand on the small of her back compelled her forward. She let him lead her into the main ballroom, which was crowded with guests. Along the outer walls were tables filled with more food than Clarke had ever seen. In the center was an elaborate dance floor where extravagantly dressed couples danced in pairs.

"Finally arrived Blake? Late as usual." Came a loud boisterous female voice from behind them.

Clarke turned to see a tall young woman in a _very_ tight _very_ revealing red dress. Her dark skin accented the dress perfectly oozing sex appeal with her hair pulled up into a ponytail

Bellamy smirked at her, "Well we can't all be perfect Reyes."

The girl rolled her eyes at him and looked expectantly in Clarke's direction clearly waiting for an introduction.

Bellamy gestured to the girl, "Raven Reyes winner of the 67th Games," he than pointed back at Clarke, "Clarke Griffin celebratory winner tonight."

Raven smirked at Clarke offering her hand. Clarke couldn't keep her eyes off the girl Raven just demanded attention.

"Well I'm glad this idiot," she pointed to Bellamy, "has someone to keep him in check."

Clarke's eyes widened, "Oh no it's not-"

But Raven cut her off with a small knowing smile at the too of them, "Like that?"

Raven rolled her eyes, "Come on Bellamy is practically glued to your side and you two can't keep your eyes off each other. I may have a bum leg but I'm not blind."

Raven pulled back the fabric of her dress to reveal a metal leg brace covering her left leg at the knee.

"Snow likes to keep many things hidden." She sent a wink Clarke's way.

Clarke decided she liked Raven for her honestly and her refusal to apologize for it. She had the ability to cut through all of the bullshit by giving you a single look. If there was one person Clarke wanted on her side it was Raven Reyes.

As the party went on one girl or another continued to pull Bellamy away a fact Clarke tried very hard to ignore. She stuck close to Raven most of the night and two other victors she'd come to be acquainted to from Octavia. Monty was a genius from District Three he'd won his games by electrocuting five people at once. He was a chemical physicist who could build practically anything. The young Asian had a boyish face and a quiet but sincere nature about him. The other victor was a boy who looked to be the same age as Monty his name was Jasper. He claimed to make the best moonshine in all of District Five. Clarke had laughed at him as he swung his cup around already hammered with his goggles slipping down his face. The two reminded her of puppies. She felt safe with them.

The night wore on until eventually not even Jaspers jokes or Ravens colorful commentary about some the guest outfits could keep Clarke from glancing towards the dance floor where Bellamy was sucking on some girl's neck. Clarke brought her hand up and lightly touched the same spot against her neck. _This is what Snow makes him do._ Clarke looked down at her hands. _That doesn't mean it hurt any less._

"Snow made you two pretend you weren't lovers." Raven spoke evenly as she looked out across the dance floor.

Clarke didn't acknowledge the dark haired girl she already knew Raven could read everything off of her face.

Raven shook her head angrily, "Snow is so fucked up." 

Clarke couldn't agree more.

She looked Clarke dead in the eye, "Don't you forget that that asshole on the dance floor loves you."

Clarke laughed through the tears pricking at the corner of her vision.

Raven smiled at Clarke, "I have never seen him look at someone the way he looks at you. It's like you hang the moon in his eyes."

Clarke rolled her eyes crossing her arms over her chest, "He doesn't look at me like that."

Raven laughed shaking her head, "God you're both in denial. If he looks at you like you're the moon you look at him like he's a god. It's sick."

"You're just jealous." Clarke laughed back at Raven.

"Maybe. That boy is gorgeous."

Clarke nodded her approval.

"What are you two laughing about?" Octavia plopped down into the seat next to Clarke.

"Your idiot brother." Raven replied.

"Oh you mean their love gazing looks?" Octavia smirked.

Clarke looked shocked, "Honestly we're not _that_ bad."

Octavia rolled her eyes; "I almost threw up on the walk over here from the train. Just the walk Clarke! You're both even worse at home. It's sick."

Raven and Octavia both laughed at Clarke's bright red face, the shame evident on it.

"Oh and what about you and Lincoln? I saw the two of you dancing together earlier." Clarke raised her eyebrow at Octavia who instantly went as red as Clarke had been just a minute before.

"If Bellamy saw the looks you two were giving each other he'd have locked you away back on the train, and beat the crap out of Lincoln."

Octavia rolled her eyes at Clarke, "I don't know what you're talking about." She turned her head away from the grinning blonde. Clarke laughed but didn't push she knew Octavia would tell her the details eventually.

Raven smirked at Clarke, "Uh oh looks like prince charming is coming over for a visit. Do we need to leave you two alone?"

Clarke shoved Raven's shoulder as she hissed at the girl to shut up.

*******

Bellamy made his way across the dance floor. He'd spent the last three hours dancing with one Capital girl after another. But now he was taking a break, now he was going to dance with the only girl he actually wanted to be with.

He found her sitting at a table near the edge of the dance floor with Raven and Octavia on either side of her. Bellamy smiled as Clarke looked over at him for help. The opening notes to another song rang out just as he reached her.

Clarke took his hand cautiously, "What about all the people? They'll see!" She hissed at him.

Bellamy just smiled, "One dance is all I ask."

Clarke needed no further prompting as she allowed his to pull her onto the dance floor. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her against his chest. _She just fits so perfectly,_ Bellamy groaned to himself. Clarke laid her head on his shoulder as he moved them gently to the slow beat of the music. The smell of her shampoo in filtered all his senses as he lost time peaceful in her embrace.

Clarke pulled her head back as the next song began this one with a bit of a faster beat. They moved swiftly only stepping on each other's feet a couple of times.

"Who is that guy talking to Monty?" Clarke asked looking over her shoulder. Bellamy turned to see the man in question.

He rolled his eyes, "That's Miller. Great guy loyal to a fault. He'd protect you with his life, even follow you blindly into battle."

Clarke raised her eyebrows at him. Bellamy dipped his forehead down to rest against hers.

"He's also hopelessly in love with Monty."

Clarke smiled, "Than he shares something in common with us."

"And what is that?" Bellamy whispered to her.

"We are all hopelessly in love with people that we can't have."

Bellamy's smile faded slightly at the corners. _I. Love. You._ He mouthed to her unable to say the words aloud for fear of being over heard.

Clarke smiled sadly at him. _I. Love. You. Too._ She mouthed back.

_And all along I believed I would find you_

_Time has brought your heart to me_

_I have loved you for a thousand years_

_I'll love you for a thousand more_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lyrics are from A Thousand Years by Christina Perry. 
> 
> How'd you guys like this chapter? Did you like Raven/ Monty/ Jasper/ Miller? More to come next chapter on Snow's reaction to what happened in District 3. Please leave a comment/ kudos/ review you guys are always amazing! -AM


	15. House On A Hill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of the Victory Party at Snow's mansion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so first off let me start by saying: I AM SO VERY SORRY FOR THE LATE UPDATE!!!! I was dealing with stress over final exams and couldn't sit down to write. BUT now that it's summer I can write, so the next chapters will be updated MUCH quicker for you guys!  
> As for this chapter there's a nice little surprise at the end ;) Please enjoy- AM

_You love him,_

_You do,_

_And here's the miracle:_

_He loves you too._

_You are allowed to have him._

Clarke had barley made it back to her seat when an Avox appeared. She had little time to wonder where Raven and Octavia had gone off too when the Avox laid a gold envelope onto her lap.

Clarke opened the envelope slowly eyeing the Avox cautiously from the corner of her eye. The Avox girl had her red hair pulled back into a tight bun at the base of her neck. She stood stiffly and tensely by Clarke's side, a stark comparison to the drunken partygoers moving around them. But what really scared Clarke about the silent red head was the presidential seal sowed into the sleeve of her burgundy uniform.

Clarke pulled out a neatly written card addressing her to follow the Avox to the President's personal office. An overwhelming smell of sickly sweet roses hit her nose. A weight sunk in her stomach; President Snow wanted to see her. _Alone._

She looked around the ballroom cautiously but couldn't find a single face of someone she knew. Raven, Octavia, Monty, and Jasper were nowhere to be seen and Bellamy had been pulled into a dance across the room too distracted to notice her unease.

Clarke nodded and followed shakily after the Avox who lead her away from the loud party and down a series of dark silent halls. Each one was more disserted than the last, Clarke's unease over the situation rose. She was covered in goosebumps by the time the Avox stopped in front of an elaborate oak door with golden knobs. She opened the door silently and gestured for Clarke to follow after her. Clarke did looking back over her shoulder anxiously as the door slid shut behind her.

The office was large with wooden bookcases attached to the walls and a giant glass pane window behind a very ornate looking desk. Behind the desk sat the very man who had addressed the letter to her.

"Miss Griffin why don't you take a seat?" His voice was authoritative. Clarke knew this was not a question, it was a command.

Clarke did as she was told; President Snow seemed very pleased by this. The room was silent again as he pulled out a small projector and a video began to play out on the large desk.

At first the place and people were untraceable, just a crowd of nameless faces standing in front a dirty looking stage. But Clarke's blood soon ran cold as she watched herself step cautiously onto the stage and take the microphone slowly into her tiny hands. The video panned closer to her as she tucked the notecards into her dress pocket.

Clarke sat frozen as her words filled the silent office rebounding off of all the walls. She could feel Snow's eyes on her the whole time, measuring her up like a snake would its prey. Waiting for its moment to strike.

Clarke was expecting Snow to stop the video when the riot in the crowd started as violence broke out in the square. But he didn't, strangely he let the video play out, the war cries soon drowned out by the sound of gunshots. Clarke watched horror struck as every man woman and child left in the square was shot assassin style through the back of the head. Their blood bleached the streets red. _This is my entire fault._ She was white as a sheet when president Snow finally turned the projector off.

"Now Miss Griffin we see that all of our actions have consequences."

Clarke was still in shock unable to form words.

"I thought we had an _understanding?_ I thought _you_ understood me." He looked down at her, but Clarke's eyes were still distant seeing bloody bodies and begging children.

"You murdered all those people." She whispered slowly to him, her mouth barely moving.

"No. You did." Snow's tone was sharp. He leveled her with a glare.

"You see Miss Griffin we all need to keep up appearances for the public, to maintain order and prestige," Snow began.

"And when someone of high stature decides to deviate from those plans, say preach their own speech to the crowd, it can cause some... _friction_ in the masses."

Clarke knew what he meant. Her speech had started an uproar-a calling for a much bigger war. Snow was covering his bases. He wanted all of this chess pieces to be in order under his command. And right now Clarke wasn't, she was a wildcard waiting to crumble his carefully build strategy. She was the girl who shouldn't have won but did and now he had to deal with the fallout.

"As of now I'm thinking it would be better for you to stay out of the spotlight. We don't want to cause many more _friction_ do we?"

Clarke nodded along to Snow's words. He had decided that the easiest way to make the people forget was to hide her. He'd keep her sequestered away in District Four and out of the limelight. Eventually his carefully crafted game would balance out again and no one would even remember her words, and the name Wanheda would never be spoken again. It's meaning like all things lost in time.

"And what about Bellamy?" She raised an eyebrow at him.

Snow gave her a long probing stare, "The agreement between myself and Mr. Blake still stands."

Clarke nodded again. The meaning behind what Snow had said again was very clear. She was to stay in District Four while Bellamy was to continue to make trips to the capital every year. This was his way of separating them, his way of ensuring that his clients were happy. Clarke wanted to scream and fight Snow because how dare he treat Bellamy like a prize to be pawned off to the highest bidder. He was a person- a person that she loved.

*******

Miller stood still and silent in the crowd, and yet even as opposite as he was to the rest of the partygoers he still managed to be invisible. It was one of the only talents he possessed; the ability to hide in plain sight. That combined with his light of hand lead to the makings of a perfect thief. It was something that ultimately helped him to win his Games. And possibly the reason why he was the only one who saw Clarke following an Avox out of the ballroom.

To anyone else it would have seemed so normal, but not to him. He knew where Clarke was headed and it wasn't anywhere good.

Victors always looked out for each other like a family. So when Bellamy had come up to him at the start of the night asking for him and the others to watch out for Clarke he hadn't even batted an eye before agreeing. It was what you did for family and Clarke was the newest member of that family. Her being lead off alone didn't sit well to him.

By the time Clarke was out of sight Miller was already moving swiftly across the dance floor towards Bellamy, who was currently in the arms of a short blond woman.

Miller whispered his message carefully in Bellamy's ear, their exchange needed to seem casual. No one could suspect what they were really talking about. Snow had the entire place wired with camera's one false expression and he'd have the peacekeepers on them in seconds.

Miller watched Bellamy's jaw tense and his hands grip the blondes dress a little too tightly. The muscles in his back became tense and his eyebrows knitted together, Miller could just make out an expression of worry before Bellamy had schooled his features back into the charismatic mask he always wore in public. Sometimes Bellamy's ability to hide things so easily scared Miller. _What else was he keeping under that mask?_

Bellamy patted Miller on the back, "That's great man. Let me know when she gets back," his eyes locked with Miller's their expression held none of the playfulness of his comment, "Maybe I can teach you some killer dance moves that'll really knock her off her feet," Bellamy smiled back down at the blond moving their hips in sync, she giggled up at him.

Miller locked eyes with Bellamy over the girls shoulder; he nodded once to show Bellamy he understood the message. _Look out for Clarke; come find him when she returns._ As Bellamy disappeared back into the crowd of couples Miller could just make out a slight wiggles in his hands and the tension in his brow. _You can't keep everything hidden behind a mask, Blake. Eventually it'll all come tumbling out._

Another face caught Millers attention on the other side of the dance floor. _Monty._ The Asian boy stood laughing next to Jasper who was obviously very tipsy. Miller's heart ached to take Monty's hand and dance like all the other couples got to do. But that thought like so many other things Snow liked to hide had to stay buried.

*******

Lincoln came up behind Octavia silently trying to remain casual. But Octavia heard him from across the room.

"Here for another dance?" She smiled coyly at him.

"No," He replied innocently, "Just came to give you this."

He pulled out a white flower from behind his back; it shone against the dark lights of the ballroom. Octavia smiled taking the flower from his hands.

She put it close to her nose and inhaled its sweet smell. It was not over powering like all of Snow's plants, but subtle and soft with a beauty all to it's own. A gift for her brought all the way from his district.

"I see we are carrying on the tradition. I thought you'd forgotten." Octavia smirked over at him.

"Never." Lincoln shot back looking her dead in the eye.

To everyone else Lincoln was a solid scary giant with a heart of stone. That was the image he initially projected when they first met years ago on her own victory tour. It took her awhile but she eventually broke thorough his steel walls to find a teddy bear underneath.

They both went back to watching the crowd, standing in comfortable silence next to each other. Octavia playing with the petals of the flower and Lincoln brushing his arm against hers. It was the closest they could come to touching without it seeming noticeable.

Lincoln spoke first trying to keep his voice even, "Octavia I know about what happened in District 9."

Octavia's smile fell, but she offered no words to falsify his statement.

"The commander won't wait forever O. We should act now."

"No! Lexa can wait. Now is not the right time." Octavia shook her head.

"I've seen the video O! I saw how she riled up the crowd. They will follow her."

Octavia locked eyes with Lincoln, "They _did_ follow her, and Snow killed them all for it. We don't need just one district in revolt, we need _all_ of them."

Lincoln nodded, "I agree but the commander won't want to wait."

Octavia rolled her eyes, "Lexa may not want to wait, but she does like to win. Trust me if we strike now. We. Will. Lose." Her voice came out strong and confident not wavering once.

Although Lincoln didn't show it, he was proud. Octavia's strength had been the first thing that had drawn him to her. She didn't need him to make her strong, she already was.

Lincoln spoke again his lips barely moving, "Something is coming. I can feel it. The districts are restless. Clarke's speech may have started it but we need something to tip the scales in order to open the flood gates."

Octavia nodded, "Than we wait, we let whatever's coming build."

"Ge smak daun, gyon op nodotaim." He said the words like a quiet chant. 

Octavia nodded, "Get knocked down, get back up." She repeated his word back to him in English.

They both turned back to face the crowd silent once more.

*******

"Leave it Bellamy." Clarke sighed the white moonlight filtering in though the window making her head hurt slightly if she looked at it for too long.

"I can't just leave it Clarke! He threatened you!" Bellamy said angrily as he paced back and forth in front of the couch.

"I know what he did Bell. I was there." Clarke stood from the couch; Bellamy stopped pacing to look at her.

"All I care about is that we are both on a train heading home right now," She laid her hands on his shoulders feeling the tension in his muscles release, "As much as I hate that man. I still love you more." Bellamy touched their foreheads together.

"So we won't be able to date publically, or walk around holding hands, or ever get married. But none of that matters to me, because as long as we are together I will always love you." She whispered slowly to him.

"Snow can take you away to the capital every year, he can make you do countless things with different woman but he can't ever wipe away that fact. I love you. Always have always will."

Bellamy smirked down at her all charm and charisma, but his eyes were soft and filled with emotion.

"Even when I was a jerk?" His hands grasp at her waist pulling her to him, "Even when I kicked that rock that cut your cheek?" His hand slipped under the fabric of her shirt sliding their way up her back.

Clarke smirked at him, "Yes even those times." Her hand came up to tug at the hair at the nape of his neck. His eyes held a deep-rooted desire, and she wanted him just as much.

Bellamy's fingers played with the clasp of Clarke's bra, sweeping over her pale skin leaving a trail of their heat behind them. But Bellamy pulled back before his fingers could loosen the clasp.

"I can't," He told her, his hands falling back to her waist, "Not here. Not when all I can think about is where this train came from."

Clarke nodded, "Ok than we wont. But promise me one day."

Bellamy touched their foreheads together, "One day." He replied.

"One day when Snow is gone we are going to own a house that sits on the hill over top of our cave," He pressed a kiss to both of Clarke's cheeks.

"And we're going to paint all the rooms yellow." Clarke added small smile pulling at her lips.

Bellamy nodded, "And we're going to watch the sunset every night."

"And I can listen to all your stories." Clarke added.

"And I'll let you tell me you're right." His voice became deep and sultry. His brown eyes read hopeful.

"And one day hopefully," He continued pressing kisses down Clarke's throat between words, "We will wake to the sounds of tiny feet running down the hall."

He lightly pressed a kiss to Clarke's lips, "You and me together."

Clarke returned his kiss with one of her own, "Forever." She gasped out into the air mingling between their mouths.

Clarke knew it was just a crazy dream, one that she knew held little promise of ever becoming a reality. But as she lay alone on the verge of sleep that night she let herself, if only for a moment, believe Bellamy's words were true and real and possible. _I believe,_ she thought, _in our house on a hill._

_You love each other,_

_You do,_

_And here's the tragedy:_

_It's not enough._

_You are not allowed to save him._

_You love him,_

_You do,_

_But you can't keep him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes I added in Lexa! I promise more about her in later chapters. I also promise a scene where Bell and Clarke actually DO go all the way, trust me it's worth the wait. Please leave a comment/ kudos/review on how you liked this chapter or just the story in general. All feedback REALLY helps <3 Until next time -AM


	16. A Spark To War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snippets of the years leading up to the 75th annual Hunger Games.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **PLEASE LOOK THROUGH THIS BEFORE READING THE CHAPTER!!!!!!**  
>  This chapter contains **EXPLICIT MATERIALS** (aka smut scene) and should only be read by **MATURE VIEWERS!!!!**  
>  Secondly this chapter is arranged differently, each little snippet is a different year, so pay attention to the headings so no one gets confused!  
> That's it for the disclaimers I need to give before letting all you lovelies read my chapter, enjoy! -AM
> 
> **BTW:** THIS IS THE LONGEST CHAPTER YET!!!! YAY NEW RECORD :D

_Skyfall is where we start_

_A thousand miles and poles apart_

_Where worlds collide and days are dark_

_You may have my number, you can take my name_

_But you'll never have my heart._

"C-L-A-R-K-E please tell me where we're going." Bellamy whined for the third time in the last ten minutes.

He huffed when Clarke gave no reply, the blindfold she'd put on him rubbing against his nose irritably. She gave a little squeeze of their linked hands but offered no comments. Bellamy sighed knowing he wasn't going to get any hints out of her, he let her lead him on until the shifting sand under his feet turned to what felt like hard rock.

"Stand here. Don't move." She told him, her voice echoed slightly.

Clarke let go of his hands; he could here her footsteps moving away from him.

He heard Clarke exhale slightly, "Ok you can take the blindfold off now." He could practically hear the nerves in her voice.

He untied the blindfold quickly, the silky fabric slipping through his fingers when he took in the sight around him with amazement.

He stood at the entrance to the cave, their cave, where they first met. Clarke had lit candles all around the cave floor and small alcoves on the walls that smelled faintly of vanilla, and gave off a very intimate vibe.

One the smoother rocks by the caves opening she'd laid out more candles along with blankets and pillows. Bellamy eyed the rock in front of them. The rock where he'd once sat as a kid next to a girl who changed his world.

He felt his breath hitch when he looked at Clarke who stood in the center of those blankets fiddling once again with the hem of her skirt. Because here was the very same girl nearly ten years later and somehow she was still surprising him.

His crooked smile spoke volumes, "This is amazing. You're amazing." He told her as he took a seat next to her on the blankets.

She gave him a slow smile, the type reserved for summer nights and quiet conversations. The dusk was receding and the stars above were just starting to become prominent in the little patch of sky visible from inside the mouth of the cave. Clarke's blue eyes were practically glowing in the dim light. Bellamy couldn't look away from her for fear that he'd miss a part of this moment.

But Clarke looked down, fiddling with her hands, her eyebrows knitted together.

"I know on the train ride you said we couldn't... not in a place like that. I agreed with you." Her words were slightly shaky.

Bellamy reached over subconsciously and tangled their fingers together, offering the only strength he could so that she might be able to speak.

Clarke looked up at him, playing with his fingers while she spoke, "But this is our cave. It's our place." She gestured to the rocky ceiling the candles laid out around them.

"Snow has no power here. He can't touch us, he can't stop us." The words hung in the air, and still Bellamy couldn't look away from her.

He didn't answer her with words instead he reached forward and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, cupping her jaw with his hand he kissed her longingly, deeply, passionately.

He sucked at her lips and she pulled at the fabric of his shirt. They moved in a state of delirium. Pulling apart only long enough to breathe or remove pieces of clothing. Bellamy was drunk on her; he wanted to run his fingers over every piece of her skin. He wanted to feel her everywhere on him. Bellamy wanted her with a passion that he'd never experienced before.

Clarke sucked in a sharp breath when he unhooked her bra. Slowly she let the straps fall down her shoulders, and she dropped the bra on top of the pile of other clothes they'd both shed.

Bellamy laid her gently on her back, his lips kissing a line down her throat. When he pressed a deep kiss on her pulse point he heard Clarke gasp aloud, the sound alone drove Bellamy crazy.

He continued with his trail of kisses down her color bone and between the valley of her breasts. He sucked softly at the delicate skin around her nipples. Clarke arched up towards him, his lips teasing her in the most desirable way. Her nails dug into his back as his lips moved lower down her stomach, Clarke closed her eyes enjoying the feel of them caressing her skin.

When his lips reached the top of her panties Bellamy pulled back and looked up at Clarke's face. Her eyes were closed anticipating his next moves. Bellamy ran his thumbs in small circles on her hips.

"Clarke look at me. I'm not going to fuck you," He said slowly, "I'm going to make love to you." He promised

When she opened her eyes Bellamy could Clarke's blown wide pupils and slightly parted lips, he could see nerves too. But they were fading away every second, his words clearing any doubt she had.

"Keep looking at me okay? I've got you."

Clarke nodded her head, "I trust you." She whispered to him.

Bellamy moved lower down kissing the arch of her knee, making Clarke giggle slightly. His lips moved up her inner thigh slowly. He could feel shivers move up and down Clarke's body when his fingers hooked at the sides of her underwear, pulling it down slowly. _Fuck she's so wet,_ the thought making Bellamy hard.

Bellamy moved in slowly with his mouth first, he didn't want to hurt her. He circled her entrance slowly playing with her teasingly until she moaned out his name. Her hands ran through his brown curls, her body shaking under his. He sucked at her wet cilt as two of his fingers rubbed her clitoris, they moved in and out pushing deeper into her each time. Their speed increasing as Clarke fisted the blankets her feet curling in. Clarke came loudly moaning his name harshly between breaths and than softly as her body came down from it's high her heartbeat slowing back down to normal.

Bellamy smirked at her, equally proud. Clarke kissed his shoulder and his neck.

"Your turn." She whispered into his ear, her voice deep and sultry. Bellamy was too shocked for words. Clarke kissed along his jaw eventually reaching his lips.

"I want you on top." He said breathlessly.

Clarke pulled back nervous once again, "Bell I won't know what to do. Are you sure?"

Bellamy nodded, "I want you to choose the rhythm, and pick a position that's comfortable. I'll guide you though it." He assured her.

When she nodded her consent. Bellamy dug his hands into her hips and flipped them so that he was on his back and she lay across his stomach.

He ran slow circles on her hips when she lowered herself onto him, her walls closing around him, adjusting until he was in the right position. Her hair fell slightly across her face.

"Ok now move your hips slowly. Find your rhythm" His voice had dropped an octave, his mind already moving to darker places.

Clarke did as she was told, their hips moved awkwardly at first trying to find the same wavelength. But when they did Clarke began to move them steadily faster, Bellamy following along after her. Clarke tipped forward her body leaning against his, her face falling into the crook of his neck. Their speed evened out and Bellamy knew he wasn't going to last long, their moans mingled together. Their kisses were messy and deep. Sucking at lips and pulling at tongues with teeth massing together.

Bellamy came first with Clarke following quickly after him, both loudly their bodies shaking, their hearts beating as one.

"I love you." Fell from Clarke's lips as she came down from her climax.

Bellamy smiled tiredly kissing her temple, "I love you too, princess."

They both fell asleep wrapped in each other's arms with the stars shining down on them from above. Like soul mates their fingers tangled together, too afraid to let go of the other even in sleep.

*******

**71st Hunger Games**

Bellamy's bedside lamp was dim and didn't give much in the way of visibility, but it was enough that Clarke could see the paper in front of her. There was no clock to tell the time but based on the purple light filtering through Bell's curtains she knew that dawn was approaching.

The thought made her feel sick. Because with the coming of the dawn meant the reaping and that followed him leaving for the capital. A place Clarke was not allowed to go, a place dominated by Snow.

Clarke shook her head trying to clear those thoughts. Now she had to focus on finishing this for Bellamy. Her hand moved quickly over the page her eyes glued to his sleeping form on the bed. The charcoal she was using for the drawing leaving little black smudges on her fingertips and hands.

Clarke wiped at a stray curl that had fallen from her loose bun as she focused back onto Bellamy's figure. _This has to be perfect,_ she thought. She crafted carful lines for his face and jaw line; watchful to get every single freckle in just the right spot.

Clarke worked next on his brown hair that was tossed from the nights sleep making his curls even more unruly. She worked on the highlights and the shadows with her piece of charcoal trying to place each curl correctly.

She bit her lip in concentration as she moved next onto his figure partially covered by blankets. He had one arm on top of the covers reaching out across the bed where she had been sleeping. Clarke worked on that hand for a while drawing each tendon and stretch of skin, making sure she outlined all the rough callouses and the soft skin of his inner palm. Next she worked on outlining the muscles on his arm, hard strong flesh, and the smattering of freckles he had on his shoulder.

Clarke continued with the shading quietly making sure each and every crease in the fabric was visible and the innocent peaceful expression on his sleeping face matched the picture exactly. She held it up when she was done smiling to herself.

Clarke quickly hid the drawing under a stack of Bellamy's books when his hand began sweeping over the blankets on her side of the bed. She knew that if his hand didn't find her form on the mattress Bellamy would wake in a panic to make sure she was alright- that nothing had happened in the night.

Clarke smiled fondly down at Bellamy, she pressed a kiss to his forehead before falling back to sleep herself.

When Clarke awoke next it was to Bellamy's footsteps as he padded around the room getting dressed and packing the last of his things into a suitcase. She watched him lazily from the bed trying to savor their last moments together. Clarke knew Snow had already posted two peacekeepers at the front door to make sure she stayed in the house until Bellamy was on the train and headed for the capital. She sighed at the thought, bringing Bellamy's attention to her.

"Good morning beautiful." He leaned over across the bed to give her a quick peck on the lips.

Clarke tried to smile back but all she could think about was him walking out the front door and leaving her behind.

She sat up and pulled a sweatshirt out of his suitcase throwing it over her head. _It smells like him,_ she thought fondly.

Bellamy rolled his eyes when he saw her with the sweatshirt draping over her slim figure. Clarke smirked at him; she knew how much he liked when she wore his clothes. When he turned his back again Clarke quickly reached over and folded the picture she'd made into the sweatshirt's front pocket.

Clarke sat and watched silent while Bellamy packed his final things. Her panic only began to rise when she heard the bells from the square ring; the signal used to call all the children into the square. _The reaping was about to begin._

Clarke blinked back tears when Bellamy stood in the doorframe to the room completely packed and ready to go.

Bellamy sighed when he saw her barely concealed tears, "Clarke we talked about this. I have to go."

He ran a hand through his hair clearly not wanted to leave anymore than Clarke wanted him to go.

Clarke stood from the bed walking towards him slowly. Bellamy opened his arms to her and she silently slid into them, her head resting over his chest.

"I know we talked about it, but that doesn't mean I can't be sad about it." She told him quietly.

Clarke stepped back and pulled the folded drawing out from the front pocket of his sweatshirt. She handed him the drawing, watching anxiously when his eyes glided over the image.

Clarke rubbed her arms shakily, "I have a piece of you with me where ever I go," she touched the rope bracelet on her wrist, "Now you have a piece of me too."

Bellamy was silent, eyes still tracking over the drawing. When he looked up to meet her blue irises Clarke could make out tears pricking at the corners of his vision too.

"I love you." He said breathlessly as he wrapped his arms around her.

"I love you. I love you. I love you." He repeated as he pressed quick kisses into her hair.

Clarke smiled against his shoulder sobs over taking her laughter. Bellamy held her until one of the Peacekeepers banged on the front door signaling it was his time to leave.

"May we meet again." She whispered into his shoulder

"May we meet again, princess." Bellamy repeated, squeezing her hands one final time. His fingers lightly brushed her bracelet before he was walking out the door.

*******

**72nd Hunger Games**

"Bellamy Blake." A female voice called from behind him.

Bellamy turned barely recognizing the girl in front of him.

"Cressida Fell." He looked down at her.

Her hair was blue now, almost the exact colour as the drink she held in her hand. And she had on yet another ugly green dress; this time covered in what looked like was supposed to be leaves and feathers.

She put a hand on her hip regarding him strangely, like there was something she was trying to figure out, a puzzle she had to solve.

This years games were about to begin, the other party guests around them were chatting excitedly about it.

"It's been awhile." He said to fill the silence; Cressida was still giving him that strange look.

"New look?" He tried again when she still didn't answer him. Silence followed.

Than in a blink the funny look was gone, and she was the bubbly Cressida he'd first met two years before. Like a flip of the switch and she was back.

"Yes it has been awhile," She said smoothly as she ran a hand through her blue hair, "People do change you know Bellamy. We can't stay the same forever." She tapped a finger against his chest.

Bellamy blinked, stunned, It was the most intelligent thing that girl had ever said to him.

"And something about you has changed Blake," She put a hand on her hip as she continued, "I'm not quite sure what it is... but you're different."

Bellamy's hands began to shake. _She can't know! She couldn't possibly read it right off of my face._

She took a step towards him, "Tell me is it a woman?" Her eyes searched his face. Bellamy tried not to give anything away.

Cressida was more observant than he thought; she laughed clapping her hands together like she'd just won a prize.

"It is isn't it?" She shrieked excitedly.

"Do tell me who this woman is that's got you all tied up." She arched an eyebrow at him.

"A man never reveals his secrets." He smirked down at her.

She clucked her tongue, "Ah so it's like that huh? A secret?"

She said the word secret like it was a dangerous adventure that she wanted to be a part of.

She reached up on her heels to whisper in his ear, "Just know if you ever get bored I'm only a letter away."

And than she was gone moving towards her group of equally bubbly friends, blue hair swinging behind her, and drink perched eloquently in her right hand.

Bellamy shook his head, maybe there was more to Cressida Fell then what lay on the surface. _What did she keep hidden behind her mask?_

*******

_Where you go I go_

_What you see I see_

_I know I'd never be me_

_Without the security_

_Of your loving arms_

_Keeping me from harm_

_Put your hand in my hand_

_And we'll stand_

*******

**73rd Hunger Games**

"Bellamy just shut up and sit down." Clarke called him over to their table.

Bellamy sighed, "I thought we said no gifts!"

Clarke rolled her eyes, "You only turn twenty two once. It's not even a big gift okay? I promise I didn't pay a thing for it."

She pushed the brown wrapped package across the table towards him. Bellamy held the gift awkwardly; he'd never been given one before. His mother never had the money for lavish spending; they barely had enough to put food on the table.

The package has some weight to it, and with it's rectangular shape he can only assume it's a book. Bellamy pulled back at the brown wrappings to reveal the cover of a book he hadn't held in his hands for many years.

"The Iliad by Homer." Bellamy said the name aloud, still not completely comprehending what he held in front of him.

"But this is a banned book! How did you get this?"

Clarke leaned back against her chair, choosing her next words carefully.

"Remember when I told you my father was killed because of treason? How they had strung him up in the square at shot him after they beat him bloody?"

Bellamy swallowed thickly. How could anyone forget? He can still remember the blood and the crowd silent as they watched. He remembers Clarke too, how she'd held close to her mother. How she'd screamed and screamed, her own mother barely able to hold her back.

"My father didn't try to assassinate anyone like Snow's Peacekeepers told the public. He did keep books though."

Clarke smiled slightly, "He used to hide them under the floorboards and behind pictures on the wall. It was like our little game. We became book thieves taking or buying them from the black market and bringing them home."

"My father used to give some of the books away too. He gave them to the poor street kids in the village."

Bellamy ran his hands over the cover while she spoke.

"When he was arrested they took all the books. At least all the ones they could find. Except for this one, somehow it survived."

"I was going through my mom's house a couple months ago and I noticed a loose floorboard, when I pulled it back. There was this book, just laying there staring up at me."

Clarke ran a hand through her hair, "And I know we said no gifts. But Bell this isn't a gift. This book belongs to you- it always did." She smiled hopefully at him.

"My father told me a story once about how a boy had come up to him. The boy had had one hand on this book and the other clutching his little sister. He gave the book back to my father."

Bellamy's fingers traced the words on the cover of the book nervously. He remembered that day. It had been cloudy and grey out, the fall was fast approaching. Him and Octavia had raced through the streets to the back door of the Griffin house. Back than Octavia was his responsibility and he didn't want to owe anyone anything, especially not Jake Griffin. He'd given the book back and him and Octavia had been on their way. Bellamy remembers how two days later the bells had rung and Jake Griffin had been hauled out into the main square.

Clarke should hate him. If he had just kept the stupid book Jake Griffin might be alive today. But when Bellamy looked up at Clarke she was smiling at him. A genuine smile.

"This was the last book," she told him, "The only one my father never read to me. I was hoping that maybe you would?"

Bellamy didn't need to think before he opened the front cover. How could he deny her anything anyway? He loved her.

He began reading the first line of the book aloud, "Sing, goddess, of how brooding Achilles mood swings caused him to act out..." He began and as he continued he felt Clarke's hand entangle with his own. She gave his hand a soft squeeze while she laid her head on the table and listened to his soft smooth voice.

*******

**74th Hunger Games**

"Blake! Shut up and watch." Raven shouted at him from across the room as he was in the middle of a debate with Monty.

Raven pointed towards the large TV on the wall where this year's games footage was being shown. The party guest's conversations around them also dropped to whispers as two tributes met on opposite sides of the cornucopia. The final showdown had begun between Maya of District Five and Bryan of District 10.

The guests at the party all held their breath as the two tributes ran at each other. Bellamy could see Jasper and Miller in the corner of his eye they were both looking intensely at the screen. Both mentors seemed to have formed bonds with their respective tributes during these games. Bellamy understood the feeling personally. When Clarke had been this close to winning, to coming home, nothing in the world could have torn his eyes away from the TV screen.

And then something surprising happened, instead of fighting Bryan and Maya stopped and faced each other. Bryan threw his sword to the ground and Maya did the same with her spear. They both stood very still wordlessly communicating with the other. The entire audience at the party was transfixed by the two tributes, as Bellamy knew all of Panam was as well.

In unison without uttering a single word Bryan and Maya both opened their clenched fists. In their open palms sat two stacks of Nightlock berries. The party broke into excited whispers as the camera zoomed in on both children's hands.

Bryan and Maya both turned to look dead center into the nearest camera. Their eyes held defiance and strength.

"One." Bryan counted.

"Two." Maya continued.

They both brought their palms up to their mouths.

"Three." They said in unison before swallowing the berries.

The audience stood in shocked silence as both tributes bodies tumbled to the ground and the screen went black. The crowded bar area broke into loud shouts and speculation's about what had happened.

Bellamy heard the smashing of glass to his left. He turned his head to find Miller's beer bottle shattered on the ground. The dark skinned boy looked too shocked to even realize he'd dropped his drink. Closer to the front of the crowd Jasper was being held back by Raven and Lincoln after trying to throw his drink at the TV screen, before Bellamy could move closer to help President Snow's face re-appeared on the screen.

"Good citizens of Panam, I do apologize for the break in our coverage. It appears that there has been a mistake made by the Gamemakers in that they allowed for the possibility of a victor not to be crowned. For the first time in 74 Games there will be no victor tonight."

The screen flashed again this time showing still images of the arena where the bodies of Bryan and Maya lay staggered on the ground. There lips both covered in a smattering of deep purple berry juice and blood. Their glossy eyes stared back at the camera, they sent a chill down through Bellamy's spine. _Maya and Bryan may have given up their lives, but they did find a way to beat Snow at his own game._ A weight settled in Bellamy's stomach, he knew how much Snow hated to lose.

*******

**75th Hunger Games**

"Clarke, O it's starting!" Bellamy called from the living room.

Clarke took a seat on the couch next to Bellamy; she leaned against his shoulder as he put his arm around her. While Octavia stayed put by the entrance to the room leaning against the doorframe.

The capital emblem appeared on the TV followed by President Snow's face as he stood behind a podium.

"Ladies and gentleman this is the 75th year of the Hunger Games. It was written in the charter of the games that every twenty five years there would be a Quarter Quell. In order to keep fresh for each new generation the memory of those who died in the uprising against the Capital. Each quarter quell is distinguished by Games of a special significance. And now on this the 75th anniversary of our defeat of the rebellion we celebrate the third quarter quell." The sound of the capital's cheers echoed through the house.

Octavia's hands began to shake; something was off about this speech. There had been unease in the districts ever since a victor hadn't been crowned in last year's games. Some were calling for an end to the Hunger Games. Octavia knew Snow needed to realign the districts before all out war began, she just didn't know his plan for accomplishing that.

She looked over quickly at Bellamy and Clarke. The hand Bellamy had draped on Clarke's shoulder was slowly moving in circles while he watched the TV screen. Clarke had grabbed on to Bellamy's free hand playing with his fingers while she listened to Snow's words. Their easy intimacy and dependence on one and other always bothered Octavia. They trusted so blindly in each other they couldn't see what was happening around them.

"As a reminder that even the strongest cannot overcome the power of the capital. On this the third Quarter Quell games the male and female tributes are to be reaped from the existing pool of victors in each district."

The final words of Snow's speech rang out and Octavia's head began to spin. _No, no, no, this is wrong. This is all so wrong._ She looked back over at Bellamy and Clarke. Bellamy was up and moving towards the TV his hand slammed against the glass screen. It was Clarke who scared Octavia the most, she stayed motionless on the couch her eyes going to a very distant far away place. _She's remembering her games._

Octavia's legs began to move as she ran from the house and onto the beach. _This is wrong. This is wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong._ Her mind repeated over and over as her heart beat wildly in her chest.

She collapsed on the sand, her feet and legs giving out beneath her. _If Clarke had been the spark, than Bryan and Maya had started a war._ Now Snow was making his first move to annihilate anyone who didn't fall in line. Octavia knew they had started a war that they didn't know how to end.

_Let the sky fall_

_When it crumbles_

_We will stand tall_

_And face it all_

**_Together_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how'd you guys like that smut scene??? It was my first ever so sorry if it sucked or you guys hated it. Please leave a kudos/comment/review you're comments literally help me to keep writing this story! Thanks guys-AM


	17. At Hell's Gate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke and Bellamy fight, the reaping occurs...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **I HAVE A QUICK ANNOUNCEMENT SO PLEASE READ THIS!!!!:**  
>  The Lion and The Lamb has been **nominated** for the Bellarke 2016 fanfiction awards in the tropes category for best crossover fiction!!! The voting closes the 28th of July so anyone who wants to vote PLEASE do so!!!  
>  **Directions on how to vote:**  
>  1\. type Bellarke 2016 Fanfiction Awards into Google  
> 2\. click the first link that shows up  
> 3\. scroll through the first post and click on the red word that says Voting  
> 4\. Scroll down to the tropes section and click the arrow until the heading says Best Crossover Fiction  
> 5\. Click on The Lion and The Lamb by AccioMarina

_You were a star, my dear_

_The brightest in all the skies_

"NO BELLAMY!" Clarke screamed at him.

"It's already decided Clarke. End. OF. STORY!" He yellaed back to her his anger rising.

"It's not decided! How could you make a decision like this before talking to me?" She yelled as she paced, her voice sounding hurt and betrayed in his ears.

"We're a team. We're supposed to decide things _together._ " Clarke continued running her hands threw her hair.

"I can't handle losing you!" He yelled back at her.

Clarke spun to face him, "Oh and you think I could lose you? You think I would be okay with watching your death through a TV screen?" She had tears in her eyes.

"At least you would be safe." Bellamy's voice dropped an octave the words sticking to his throat.

"I don't care about being safe if you're in danger." Clarke fired back at him.

They stared at each other both at an impasse, and unable to find common ground.

Clarke broke their stare off, "I need you Bellamy. I can't lose you too." Her voice pleaded with him to understand.

Bellamy's jaw locked in an effort to be unaffected by her words.

"No Clarke. Octavia and I will be reaped and compete in the game. You will stay here." His statement was final.

Clarke glared up at him, "I will not stay here like a porcelain doll. I spent my whole life like that growing up. If Octavia's name is picked I'm volunteering to take her place and there's nothing you can do about it. I won't let you lose your sister because of me."

Clarke spun on her heel and stormed out the back door of the house and onto the beach leaving Bellamy in a stony silence. He sank back against the wall, the fight leaving his body.

He knew she'd never go along with the plan just as much as he knew making a deal with Octavia before talking to Clarke wasn't a good idea. But he _had_ too; he had to keep her safe, even if it meant his death.

The plan had been for him and Octavia to be reaped and Clarke to stay behind in District Four. Once in the arena Bellamy would make sure Octavia won. _My sister my responsibility._ Only one person was coming out of this Quarter Quell and he knew for sure it wasn't going to be him.

Bellamy found her a few hours later in the place he should've checked first- their cave. He's not sure when it went from being 'the cave' to 'their cave' but it had.

He came around the corner and looked into the entrance. Clarke sat on one of the smooth rocks by the cave's mouth. Her feet were dangling into the water; the waves were now coming up past her ankles as well.

Bellamy watched her for a while, the sun was setting and he could see a much younger girl sitting on the rock in front of him. She had had a bow in her hair and a blue dress on. Now Clarke wore shorts and a tank top, her hair no longer held back by its braid. So much had changed, and yet Bellamy couldn't help but feel that they'd also stayed the same.

So without thinking Bellamy picked up a smooth flat rock by his foot and threw it. The rock skimmed and bounced on top the water less than six inches from Clarke's feet. She snapped her head behind her to look at him.

Her body language read as tense, but the fight had also left her eyes.

"I missed your cheek this time" He gestured back to where the rock had disappeared beneath the surface of the waves.

Clarke gave him a small smile; one Bellamy took as an invitation to take a seat next to her on the rock.

"I am glad, Glass would've had a hell of a time covering up that gash."

Bellamy smiled, "She would've spent the next week sending glares in my direction."

Both him and Clarke laughed. Her head fell on his shoulder as they watched the waves turn a deep purple and than slowly fade to black as the sun disappeared over the horizon.

"I'm sorry." He finally said.

He felt Clarke nod her head against his shoulder.

"I know." She spoke; her voice was soft in his ears.

"You were right. We are stronger together."

Clarke laced their hands together. Bellamy looked down at their linked fingers. Hers thin and soft his fatter and longer. Complete opposites that somehow they balanced out- two half's of the same whole.

"When we stand together we are invincible." Clarke told him, her voice a whisper cascading over the rolling dark waves.

"We stand together at the reaping, and we die together in the arena like it was suppose to be." Her voice sounded far away now, her eye's were clouded over and Bellamy knew she was thinking about her mother and her father. He kissed the top of her head.

Bellamy knows he'd die for her, and he knows she'd do the same for him. But he thinks if he _had_ to die he'd like to do it with her like this, holding her hand as they descended into the gates of hell.

*******

Clarke smiled against her pillow when she felt Bellamy's fingers trailing up and down her spine. The early morning sun shone through the drapes of their bedroom sending little splinters of light across the bed.

She felt his fingers dance across her hip and down onto her stomach.

"Bell..." She groaned when his fingers moved down to her thigh.

She peeked up at him through her hair. He wore an impish grin on his face as the morning light hit his freckles just right.

He pitched forward to give her a light peck on the lips, "Morin' beautiful." He sang out, perfectly at ease.

Clarke rolled her eyes at him, although the compliment did turn her cheeks a slight pink.

"Bell?" Clarke asked lazily.

"Hmm?" Bellamy responded his hands running through the tangled curls at the ends of her hair. 

"We need a signal." Clarke stated, she felt Bellamy's hands still in her hair.

"For what?" His voice carried no edge to it, but Clarke could tell it was something he didn't want to talk about.

"For in the capital. When we want to say _something_ to the other but can't because there are other people around." She ran a hand through his hair.

Bellamy's eye's flashed to hers. His brown iris's captured hers she couldn't look away. The swirling pools of brown and gold had her pinned.

"What would we have to say?" She didn't have to look down at his lips to know he was smirking. _Figures he'd make her say it._

Clarke tipped her chin up to be on level with his, "That I love you."

Bellamy's hands trailed down her arms, "And...?"

Clarke smiled, "That you love me too."

"Yeah I do." He said as he pulled Clarke into his lap, her face falling against his chest. Clarke let out a shriek by the unexpected movement.

Bellamy cupped her jaw, his lips meeting hers. He kissed her like he was trying to tap into her soul, passionately and deeply. Clarke opened herself up to him, giving as much as he took.

Bellamy flipped them again, laying Clarke gently on her back. She felt the soft sheets and pillows against her. _This is happiness,_ Clarke thought. Bellamy's lips moved lower down her throat and onto her bare chest. Clarke's legs came up to wrap around his waist as he dug deeper down.

Her hands ran up and down his back and into his hair. She couldn't get enough of him, and the heat of his skin against hers. And the feeling of electricity that shot through her body every time he so much as looked at her.

Later when they were cuddling on the bed Bellamy spoke.

"I figured out that signal."

"Oh yeah?" Clarke flipped to look up at him, her hands and body leaning against this chest.

"Three taps." He said.

_Tap, tap, tap._ He demonstrated with his finger on her shoulder.

"One tap for each word." He explained his voice soft and warm.

_Tap, tap, tap,_ "I. Love. You." He enunciated one word per tap.

Clarke smiled a small giggle escaping her lips. _Tap, tap, tap._ She repeated their signal against his chest.

A smile spread across Bellamy's face too, her giggles making him laugh as well. Clarke leaned foreword and pressed her lips against his.

"Now when we're in the capital and one of us does the signal the other _has_ to repeat it."

Clarke nodded, "Our secret." She promised, her lips moving against his.

Bellamy's finger tapped her pulse point three times before leaned forward to kiss her.

*******

Clarke twisted her hands together nervously. _Today's the day._ The thought making a chill run down her spine. She watched the clock tick anxiously on the wall. _Tick, tick, tick,_ the seconds counted down.

Clarke ran her hands over Bellamy's bracelet trying to calm herself down. She closed her eyes and tried to remember the good times. It was something she'd started to do to calm herself down.

As her fingers glided over the sea glass she remembered her Ursula costume from the first games, and the heat of Bellamy's hand against her skin when he'd grabbed her arm. _Their first touch._

She remembers the two sugar cubes in her coffee and his knife throwing lessons with his deep voice whispering directions in her ear. When her fingers trail over the delicate knots in the rope her mind flies to when they laid out on the beach and he told her he didn't want them to _ever_ end.

Her hand moves up her arm and Clarke remembers their signal. Clarke's index finger presses against her lips and she remembers when they'd first kissed, and running through the hospital halls. She remembers the safety of his arms and the electricity of his lips.

Clarke wraps her arms around herself as she remembers their cave and all the moments they spent in it. She remembers wishing on a shooting star and an angry boy with a rock. Clarke closes her eyes and sees glowing candles and soft blankets.

She wants to remember every moment from the past five years, she wants to savor them and live in them. She never wants to forget a second of her time with Bellamy. They may not have much time left.

When Clarke open's her eyes she watches frozen as the hand on the clock read 9:00 AM. A second later she hears the bells ringing from the square. _It's time._ A weight sinks into her stomach. _This is it, there are no more moments to savor and no more quick kisses to sneak in between conversations._ She was walking towards her funeral and everyone knew it.

Ten Peacekeepers meet Clarke at her front door. They surrounded her on all sides as they lead her to the main square. Clarke, Octavia, and Bellamy had all been lead to the stage separately.

The square was packed with people, but Clarke barely had time to register the faces before she was being pushed up and onto the stage. She deposited into the female pen on the left most edge of the stage. Clarke jolted when she felt Octavia lace their fingers together. Octavia squeezed their joining hands, and Clarke squeezed back her heart racing in her chest.

Clarke looked across the stage at Bellamy. His pen had more males than the female pen did, but most of them were well into there sixties or seventies. That was the same in her pen. Clarke, Octavia, and Bellamy were the youngest victors by far. Most of the people surrounding her Clarke had never seen leave their houses, and she knew stood no chance should their names be called. But a part of Clarke knew this reaping was rigged. Snow wanted all the _right_ victors to be picked for the games. He wanted the one's he couldn't control thrown into the arena.

Annora stepped up to the microphone considerably less bubbly then usual. Clarke could see right through that fake plastered on smile. _She knows._ A weight settled in Clarke's stomach. _Snow had won,_ regardless of weather it was her or Octavia who went into the games, Bellamy was going to be reaped. That meant he was going to die because Bellamy was her weak spot, just as she was his. Snow had figure that out and now he was going to use that against them.

Clarke's eyes met Bellamy's and she knew he'd figured out the same thing. Like when Bellamy was reaped during his games Clarke felt that pull to him. A desperate _need_ to get to him. Clarke leaned forward preparing to take a step, when Octavia's hand pulled her back. She held Clarke against her side, never once looking in Clarke direction. Octavia's eyes held such determination to appear unaffected by this whole event, it scared Clarke how well the Blake siblings could hide everything behind their masks. When Clarke looked back across the stage Bellamy had his head turned towards the crowd of people below them. Clarke tried to suck in a deep breath. _This was it, this was happening._

"Welcome! Welcome! As we celebrate the 75th anniversary and the third Quarter Quell of the Hunger Games!" Annora's voice chipper didn't reach its normal high volumes as she tried and failed to look enthused for the cameras.

"As always ladies first."

The entire audience watches frozen in their anticipation as Annora's hand dips into a large glass bowl filled with only ten names. Clarke could hear a pin drop when Annora finally pulls one fated strip of white paper out of the pile. She holds it carefully in her hands as she walks back over to the microphone, the sound of her high heels clicking on the stage as she moves.

"The female tribute from District Four is Octavia Blake!"

This time it's Clarke's turn to pull back on Octavia's arm when the brunette makes a move to walk towards the center of the stage. Octavia looks surprised when Clarke's fingers dig into her arm holding her back with more strength than Clarke knew she possessed. _Goodbye Bellamy,_ she thinks because Clarke knows what she must do now.

"Clarke I can't let you!" Octavia whispered frantically in Clarke's ear. _I love you Bellamy._

Clarke yanks her arm out of Octavia's hold, "I volunteer as tribute." Her voice rings out strong over the silent square despite the slight tremor of her hands.

Clarke wills herself not to look in Bellamy's direction as she walks towards the center of the stage. _I'm sorry Bell,_ she thinks, _but I can't let you lose you sister because of me._ The audience watches in complete silence.

Annora gives Clarke a long pitying gaze before turning back to the audience, "Wonderful! And now for the men."

Annora's smile slips further down her face as she walks just as slowly over to the men's bowl. Maybe Clarke was imagining it, but she can just see a twitch of regret in Annora's hand before she selects a white strip of paper. They all know whose name is written on it.

Clarke looks up only for a second and catches his gaze. Bellamy looks like a soulless man, his eyes holding such sadness that make's Clarke turn away. He stands like the only good thing he had was just ripped from his clutches and he's left cold and deserted. _God I'm so sorry Bell._ Clarke has to choke back tears.

"The male tribute from District Four is Bellamy Blake!"

Clarke shuts her eyes when Annora's words ring out, a weight of despair falling on her. When she hears Bellamy's name Clarke can picture Snow back in his study in the Capital smiling like the cunning snake he is because he's already won.

A solemn tear streaks down her cheek as both her and Bellamy turn to look out at the audience.

Annora claps her hands together, "Very well! The tributes for District Four," she pats both Clarke and Bellamy's shoulders, "Clarke Griffin and Bellamy Blake!"

The audience does not clap. In fact they do something Clarke would never predict. As if thinking with one mind the people in the square opened their mouths and began to speak.

"In peace may you leave the shore," One little boy in the front row says. He has shaggy blond hair and was missing one front tooth.

"In love may you find the next," A group of teenage girls on the opposite end of the square sang out.

"Safe passage on your travels," This time the voice came from behind her, Clarke turned to see Councilman Kane risen from his seat and looking at her for the first time with honest eyes.

"Until our final journey to the ground." Two thirds of the crowd yelled out, some raising their fists others holding tightly to the people surrounding them.

"May we meet again," The entire crowd joined together to say the final four words, their mouths all-moving as one.

Clarke felt a large hand grasp hold of hers. She didn't have to look to know it belonged to Bellamy, the heat of his hand all to familiar to her.

"May we meet again." Both her and Bellamy said in unison.

For five seconds everyone stood as still and as silent as before all sharing this one last complete moment. Than like a chain reaction Peacekeepers swept into the square and people scattered.

Bellamy dropped Clarke's hand as they were both swarmed by Peacekeepers with guns and pulled into the justice building.

It was done her and Bellamy would be going into the arena and only one of them would be coming out. A selfish part of Clarke hoped it wasn't her because she knows she didn't want to come home if home didn't include him. Because for Clarke home wasn't a place it was a person.

_Bellamy Blake,_ her mind whispered his name like it was a forgotten dream. A _really_ good dream that Clarke had pretended could last forever.

_But stars burn out, my dear_

_And everything golden dies_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone who has seen the Netflix documentary Bridegroom that is where I got the idea for the tap, tap, tap, signal Bellamy and Clarke use!  
> I hope you guys liked this chapter I know the ending was sad. I promise to update sooner I was just really busy this past week and unable to get internet access to upload.  
> As always please kudos/comment on your thoughts over the story, until next time -AM 
> 
> **PLEASE PLEASE VOTE FOR THIS STORY TO WIN!** Follow the directions written in the beginning notes at the top of this chapter to vote for this story! Thank you to anyone who votes -AM


	18. Golden Crowns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy and Clarke arrive in the capital and must be a part of the tribute parade. Octavia meets with Lincoln in secret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so I would just like to issue an official apology for not updating for the last while. I was going through a bit of a hard time recently that made writing fanfiction- or writing anything at all- too much for me to handle. But I'm better now so expect lots of updates soon! 
> 
> Thank you, AM

_Do not go gentle into that good night_

_Drip, drip, drip._

The sound echoed as water droplets slipped down the leaves of a nearby bush, and fell to the dirt by where Clarke stood.

She watched them, one after another fall to the brown Earth. She listened to the sound they made, _drip, drip, drip._ A constant melody in Clarke's head.

_Drip_

Clarke closed her eyes focusing on the droplets rhythm.

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

_Dripdrip._

_Dripdripdripdrip._

Clarke's forehead scrunched together as the number of drops increased, their rhythm speeding up. When she opened her eyes next the water had reached her ankles and still the drops continued. She watched transfixed as the water continued to rise and the drops continued to grow in size until they formed a steady stream.

The water rose to Clarke's waist causing her panic to grow. She struggled but couldn't make her feet move, the dirt under her feet had turned to mud it sucked her legs down. The stream of water had now turned into a rushing river.

When the water reached her shoulders, Clarke began to call out for someone, anyone to save her.

"Help! Help!" She called.

There was no answer.

That's when the wave hit, it rolled over her immobilized body its current sucked her out of the muds clutches. It pulled her along under the water as her lungs screamed in protest. She needed air. Now.

_Help._

Every time Clarke thought she'd neared the surface of the water the current sucked her back down again.

Suddenly the water around Clarke turned muddy and she knew exactly where she was. _The arena._

Pieces of wood and metal streaked through the water around Clarke's struggling body. They sliced at Clarke's arms and legs leaving little leaking cuts behind, the small dark streams of blood swirling in the water around her rising up to the surface. The current continued to pull Clarke further down, her mind began to spin.

That's when she felt it, the inevitable pull on her leg. The fingers dug into her skin as they pulled her down further into the deep black water.

Then Murphy's face was an inch from hers. His gaping wound gushed blood into the dark water and surrounded Clarke's vision.

Clarke felt a tug on her left arm; she turned her head to see Charlotte's tiny blue and purple bloated hand tugging at her skin. The younger girl's nails scratched at the surface her face looked ghostly in the water, her eyes sunken into her skin. The little girls entire body was swollen blue and as she drew closer to Clarke's face, Clarke could make out the dark purple bags under her icy blue eyes.

There was a tug at Clarke's right arm next. Wells face appeared next to Murphy's. The cut on his neck gushed blood with his dark eyes turned to her in fear.

Clarke opened her mouth to scream- to yell, but nothing came out. Not a sound, not even bubbles.

Murphy began to laugh his dark eyes and twisted smile taking over her vision. She felt him as he wrapped his hands around her neck. Clarke wanted to scream, she wanted to kick, but there was no fight left in her.

Murphy's hands squeezed harder. Clarke closed her eyes the last of the air leaving her lungs. _This is the part where he kills me._

Like a jolt Clarke leaped forwards and out of the bed, her lungs heaving like she had been holding her breath in her sleep. Her whole body shook in sweaty spasms as she tried to gain control over her breathing.

Clarke ran a hand through her sweat soaked hair and stood from the end of her bed. She quietly crossed the room and slipped out in to the hallway.

The train jostled slightly as she moved towards the entertainment car where she could see a bright white light coming from inside it. _It's probably Bellamy,_ she thought, _he never sleeps either._

When Clarke entered the entertainment car she stopped abruptly in her tracks because it wasn't Bellamy who sat on the couch watching the TV, it was Octavia.

On the screen was a frozen image of Lincoln at his reaping ceremony where he'd been selected as a victor.

"He's in his room." Octavia said in a monotone voice as she gestured to the other end of the car where Clarke knew lead to Bellamy's quarters.

Octavia didn't turn her head and she didn't take her eyes off of the screen. It had been two days since the reaping and Octavia had yet to even glance in Clarke's direction.

Clarke began to move towards the door at the other end of the car when Octavia spoke again.

"I never asked you to die for me."

Clarke stopped walking and turned to face the brunette. Octavia, for the first time since the reaping was looking directly at her, she had tears streaking down her perfect little face. Clarke stood in shocked silence because she had never seen Octavia cry. Not at her brothers reaping, not even at her own, and not at the one two days ago.

But it was here, in the entertainment car at two in the morning heading to the capital where Octavia had finally broke. Here with a picture of the boy she loved on the TV screen.

"We had a plan!" Octavia said desperately, "Me and Bell. We were going to save you. And-and then Lincoln h-he was supposed to-" Octavia ran a hand through her long hair as her sobs replaced her words.

Clarke took a seat next to Octavia on the couch unsure of how to respond. They were both silent for a while until Octavia's sobs began to die out.

"I get nightmares." Clarke said out of nowhere.

"I didn't used to. I mean I did but they were never this bad. Until-"

Octavia cut Clarke off, "Until the announcement on the TV" she answered in a deadpan voice.

Clarke nodded, "I can't sleep without him. The nightmares come." She said her voice barely above a whisper.

"I can't make them stop without him."

Octavia doesn't say anything. Instead she laid her head on Clarke's shoulder, like a sister would. She picked up the remote and un-pauses the video. Both girls watch the reaping on repeat until they fall asleep. Neither gets nightmares.

*******

The sleek bullet like train pulled into the Capital platform at exactly 10:00AM. Annora had everyone up and off the train by precisely 10:03AM . And by 10:15 Clarke found herself stark naked in her dressing room with her incessant stylists plucking hairs from her eyebrows and waxing her legs to smooth baby like perfection. She was so used to the constant priming, the whole spectacle hardly phased her.

It seemed like hours before Glass finally entered the room and shoed out the other stylists. Eclair and her sister huffed at Glass but pushed their way out of the room, their puffy salmon colored dresses getting stuck against the doorframe. Clarke rolled her eyes at them.

Clarke's face fell when she looked at what Glass held in her arms, or rather what she didn't have in her arms. Instead of yards of fine silk fabric Glass held a bundle of rope, a fishing net, and jewels.

Clarke shook her head, "No." She said firmly.

Glass sighed.

"Clarke, Octavia and Bellamy both agreed the best way for you to get noticed is by showing off your best assets. The people will be expecting this of Bellamy, he'll be a show stopper."

Clarke huffed, "That doesn't mean I have to parade around practically naked in front of thousands of people too."

"I know that. That's why I got Octavia to let me add more fabric to yours."

Glass said as she motioned for Clarke to stand so that she could drape the rope over her.

Glass fussed over the dress for a little, adding more jewels and sea glass to different parts before she spun Clarke around to look at the herself in the giant full body mirror.

Clarke had to admit, she looked better than she'd originally thought. When she first saw the rope in Glass's arms her mind immediately went to her parading around with skimpy bits of rope tried around her. But what Glass had done was actually kind of beautiful. Clarke shamed herself for thinking Glass would actually let her walk around in a garment where she didn't look absolutely stunning.

The dress was made of a thick stitched fishing net, one Clarke could've easily made with her father, it fell to her upper thigh. Glass had added a thicker rope around her waist to act as a sort of belt to give her more shape. She had also added more pieces of laced rope to her chest and crotch area to cover up more, like she'd told Clarke she would, but the rest of the dress was left as see through. Across the whole dress Glass had inlaid twinkling jewels, sea glass, and tiny little shells. The overall effect was absolutely stunning. Even being so exposed, Clarke felt powerful.

Clarke had been so busy looking at herself in the mirror she hadn't even notice that Glass held another object in her hands. She reached up and placed it carefully on top of Clarke's head.

"And as always to finish off the outfit, a crown fit for a princess." Glass told Clarke proudly.

Clarke smiled carefully reaching up to touch the headpiece. It was just as beautiful as the other crowns Glass had made for her. It was gold inlaid with silver jewels and blue sea glass, which accented the rope dress perfectly. Clarke felt very regal with it sitting atop her head.

Glass than began work braiding small pieces of Clarke hair back to the crown of her head and adding a light touch of make up to her face. Glass had just tied off the last braid when there was a knock at the door.

Annora's shrill voice echoed through the door.

"It's time ladies!"

Clarke took a deep breath before rising from her seat and leaving the room. _From here on out everything was part of the show._

*******

Bellamy laughed when he saw himself in the mirror. Of course Octavia would dress him in the least amount of fabric possible.

He wore a scrap of fisherman's net tired at his waist like a shower towel. The rope was thick enough that it covered him but not enough that Bellamy felt comfortable. The net had been inlaid with small white shells and bits of blue sea glass. His chest was completely bare apart from the oil his stylists had applied to appear as though his skin were shiny and glowing in the light.

"Like the sun's golden touch!" One of his stylists had told him proudly.

The final touch was a gold crown placed on his head, one you might see worn by a king or prince. It had blue sea glass and silver jewels inlaid in the gold.

And with that he was sent out the door and told to wait by the chariots.

He was leaning against the side of the District Four chariot when he heard a whistle from behind him. Bellamy turned to come face to face with a very smug looking Raven Reyes.

"Really baring it all tonight, aren't we Blake?" She smirked at him.

Bellamy grinned back a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"You're one to talk Reyes." Bellamy gestured to her outfit for the night.

Raven had on a see through body suit with green lace leaves placed over her breasts and crotch and brown lace crawling up her limbs to look like bark.

Raven laughed, "I'm a tree can't you tell?" She stood with her hands on her hips in a very exaggerated fashion.

Bellamy was just about to respond when Raven let out another whistle over his shoulder. Bellamy turned around and felt his mouth drop open. Clarke was walking towards him, she looked- well she looked in all ways gorgeous. No words could define how beautiful she was to him in that rope dress. It hugged her curves and showed over her figure in just the right angles. She captivated him entirely.

He was barely even able to process his thoughts before Clarke was standing in front of him one hand perched on her hip, the other hanging by her side.

"Damn Griffin warn me next time before you decide to show up looking like that!" Raven smirked down at Clarke her eyes wide.

But Clarke was only looking at him, and he her. Raven taking their silence as a hint turned towards her own chariot calling a goodbye over her shoulder.

Clarke pointed her finger at him, "You know I blame you for this."

"Me?" Bellamy faked an expression of shock before Clarke punched him in the arm.

"Stop enjoying this." Clarke laughed a small smile spreading over her features.

Bellamy's eyebrows rose, "You stop enjoying _this._ "

He brushed a hand down his chest. He watched with satisfaction as a blush rose on Clarke's cheeks her eyes following his movement.

"Ok you two, stop flirting and get on the chariot. It's about to full out." Octavia yelled at them.

Bellamy smirked down at Clarke, they'd just have to finish this conversation later in private, somewhere quiet where no one could hear them. _Yes, somewhere preferably with a bed,_ Bellamy thought as he took his place to Clarke's left on the back of the chariot.

The loading gate doors opened and with a jolt the horses began to pull them forward and out of the tunnel where the sound of screams echoed from the opening.

Bellamy slipped his hand into Clarke's, interlocking their fingers together.

"Bellamy!" Clarke warned, her eyes flashing to look around them, there was no one to see them in the tunnel. She tried to pull her hand from his, but Bellamy tightened his hold.

"What more can he do to us?" He whispered desperately to her, his eyes held defiance not fear.

Clarke nodded her head slightly squeezing their joined hands. She faced forward as they crossed the threshold of the tunnel and the world around them exploded into a sea of bright colors and screaming people.

Bellamy smiled charmingly at the passing cameras. He lifted Clarke and his joined hands up high above his head. Shouting and cheers erupted around them as the capital citizens roared their approval the act. Bellamy smiled confidently, never feeling more powerful in his entire life.

*******

Octavia moved silently through the darkened hallways, her movements only disturbing the dust on the walls. She was on the basement floor of the old tribute center; it had been long since abandoned now that a new one had been built for the Quarter Quell.

When she came to a set of oak wood door she pushed them open and walked into a bare grey room, its contents long since emptied out.

"Lincoln?" She called out into the empty room.

There was a flash of movement in the far corner of the room, where a shape seemed to materialize itself over of the shadows. Octavia shook her head, his ability to camouflage himself still amazed her even to this day.

She ran at him throwing her arms around his neck. It had been so long since they'd been alone together. _Too long,_ Octavia yearned from his contact.

Their lips met feverishly and longingly. They both fought for dominance as she felt Lincoln push her back into the wall. Their kisses intensified, biting and tugging at each other's lips. Octavia had just slipped her hands up the back of his shirt when three beeps sounded from his pocket, to the effect of an alarm Lincoln pulled away.

"It's time."

He said as he pulled a hollo projector from his pocket. It glowed blue as he pointed it at a blank wall of the room.

A few seconds later a face appeared. She was young with long brown hair and piercing eyes. She wore a stern expression her face, her image exulted power and strength.

"Commander Lexa, it's good to hear from you again." Lincoln spoke at the projected image.

Lexa nodded, "What information do you have for me?"

"The reaping didn't go as planned, Wanheda volunteered." Octavia offered watching Lexa's body language carefully.

Lexa's mouth dropped to a firm line. "That changes things not having the both of you inside of the area."

"Should we tell Clarke of the plan?" Lincoln questioned.

"NO! No Snow is watching her and Bellamy too closely. They both need to remain in the dark. We keep it a secret for now."

Lincoln and Octavia both nodded, "Yes Commander."

Lexa's image on the wall splintered in and out of focus.

"We're losing connection, I'll send a message to you, Octavia, on when and where to meet up again to discuss plans of action for the strike. Wanheda must be protected."

"Yes Commander." Both Lincoln and Octavia repeated again in unison.

Lexa nodded her head at them as her image disappeared from the wall, the blue light on the projector went out and the room fell back into darkness.

_Rage, rage against the dying of the light_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Expects much more of Lexa in the next couple of chapters, and even possibly a little of Costia as well... hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, again so sorry for the lack of updates -AM


	19. Soft Eyes and Moonshine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy and Clarke go through their tribute training days. Lexa struggles with waging a war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! So this chapter focuses less on Bellamy and Clarke and more on minor characters like Monty, Jasper, and Raven. Hope you all like it! -AM

_Love leave a memory_

_No one can steal_

The elevator jolted slightly as it began its decent to the training floors. Clarke's stomach felt queasy, she hadn't been able to throw a knife since her games, and now being in a room surrounded by people who will try to kill her in a couple of days didn't make her feel much better. Her only solace was Bellamy. He'd be in there with her, they'd have each other's backs and that was enough for Clarke.

She reached over and touched Bellamy's hand, just a slight brush of her fingertips against his. The contact alone helped Clarke to stand a bit straighter. Bellamy grabbed after her hand and linked their fingers together. He gave her hand a little squeeze before the elevator doors opened and he had to let go.

The training floor was a buzz with activity, most of the others had already arrived. Clarke stepped out of the elevator cautiously. Although she had been a victor for five years now she had only met many of these victors once on her Victory Tour. They were mostly complete strangers to her. Whereas Bellamy had known some of these people for ten years. He had formed relationships with them, that she would never have.

It no surprise to Clarke that the second they stepped off of the elevator Bellamy was pulled away to the throwing station with a couple other victors who Clarke had never seen before.

Clarke looked around anxiously suddenly feeling very alone, she ran a hand over her rope bracelet to try and calm her nerves. She couldn't see Raven anywhere yet and standing awkwardly in the middle of the room alone was not an option.

"Clarke!" She heard called from behind her.

She spun around to see Monty and Jasper huddled over by the fire making station, although the latter appeared to be more focused on some other task Clarke couldn't quite see. She smiled at the two boys and made her way over towards them.

Clarke huddled down next to Monty where the asian boy seemed to be struggling to make fire with a bowstring and a piece of flimsy wood. She was just about to offer advice to Monty when she noticed Jasper reaching back behind the set of fake trees with two vials full of liquids. She peeked behind the tree to see Jasper mixing the strange liquids together in a metal pot.

"What are you doing?" She questioned.

"Shh!" Jasper held a hand up to his lips.

Clarke dropped her voice, "What's in the pot?"

When Jasper didn't answer right away Monty huffed from his place beside Clarke, he'd failed again with the bowstring.

"He stole some of the alcohol from the chemicals station and has been mixing it with different things to make moonshine."

Jasper winked at her, "I make the best there is." A goofy little smile over took his face.

When Monty huffed again, his annoyance over the fire clearly building, he began to mumble under his breath, "Friction generates heat, heat generates fire." Clearly trying to understand why he could produce only smoke but no flames. _Monty was probably one of the smartest people in Panam when it came to engineering and chemistry but try for those practical skills and he was at a loss._

"You should move your hands downward", Clarke made a motion to show the Asian boy, "and faster too."

Monty nodded at her and tried her advice, within a minute he had fire.

"Thank you." He smiled clearly proud over his achievement, "Where'd you learn how to do that?"

Clarke looked down at her hands, "My father taught me."

Jasper who had been mixing in his pot through this whole exchange tapped on Monty's shoulder, "Hey, up there by the table." He motioned towards where the Gamemakers were overseeing them.

Clarke followed his eyes but couldn't see anything out of the ordinary.

"What? There's nothing there."

Monty and Jasper both sent her cunning smiles.

"There's a force field." Monty supplied.

"How can you tell?"

"The shimmering, top left hand side of the box, look carefully." Monty whispered to her.

Jasper pointed his hand slightly showing Clarke where to cast her eyes. At first she saw nothing. But as she moved her eyes along the front of the booth, she could see it, just a slight ripple in the air. And then the shimmering Monty had mentioned. It was strange how she'd never noticed it before.

"It's like glass." Clarke observed, her eyes transfixed on the force field

"It's to separate us and them," Jasper smirked, "Apparently there was an incident last games where a tribute shot an arrow into the Gamemakers booth."

"There's always a flaw in the system, Clarke." When Monty spoke Clarke couldn't help but feel like there was some hidden meaning in his words.

Before she could question him though the elevator doors dinged open and two new people stepped out, a man and a woman. Their footsteps echoing on the metal floor as they moved into the room. Clarke could almost feel power radiating off of them, they commanded everyone's attention.

The man was tall and build like a tank. He had shoulder length brown hair that he had partially tied back at the crown of his head. He wore a fierce expression that made Clarke want to hide away. The man had identical crescent moon shaped scars starting on his temples and carving down onto his cheeks. _He looks like one of the ancient warriors from Bellamy's stories._

The woman stood next to the man, even with her small size Clarke could tell she was not to be underestimated. She too had brown hair tied back in a similar style to the man, but hers came down past her collar bones. She had intense eyes, they sized up everyone in the room the way a predator would its prey. She wore red makeup that streaked down under her eyes like blood. Clarke suddenly felt very uneasy being close to her.

"Who are they?" She asked Monty and Jasper.

"Roan and Echo, District One." Monty answered, his voice lowered to an almost inaudible level.

"Those scars on his face? Rumor has it that he did them to himself. Can you imagine the type of pain that took?" Jasper added.

"And she was the one who covered herself in the blood of her victims after she killed them. She just wears the makeup now for the effect."

A chill went up Clarke's spine at his words. Her eyes followed the two figures as they made their way over to the throwing stations where Bellamy and Raven stood together talking. She tried to catch Bellamy's eyes but he was too focused on whatever him and Raven were talking about. _We're screwed Blake,_ is what she wanted to say to him.

*******

The trident in Bellamy's hand felt natural to him, like an extension of his arm. The cold golden metal sat comfortably in his right hand. He shifted his weight slightly as he held the trident up and over his right shoulder.

He took a deep breath and faced the dummy, placed 20 feet back from where he stood. Bellamy starred at its blank face until his eyes began to hurt. He pictured president Snow standing in the dummy's place, his cunning snake eyes pointed right at Bellamy, a sly comment about to slip from his pale white lips. Bellamy ran forwards and flung the trident over his shoulder. He watched its path through the air as it sailed towards Snow. With a dull thud the trident pierced Snow right in the center of his chest, a fatal blow. Snow melted away and the dummy was left in its place, the trident sticking out from the bullseye painted on the dummy's chest. Bellamy felt nothing. Not remorse, not guilt, or pain, or triumph. Nothing. _The mark of a killer._

Clapping sounded from behind him, startled Bellamy turned and came face to face with Raven Reyes herself.

"It's not polite to stare, Reyes."

Raven smirked, "Can you really blame a girl, Blake? I mean look at you!" She gestured to his arms and his torso.

"Why are you here Raven?" Bellamy crossed his arms over his chest.

"And don't give me some bullshit line about wanting my company or scoping out the competition." Bellamy's words were stern, his tone held none of Raven's light humor.

Raven's smirk vanished, she glanced over her shoulder slightly, Bellamy followed her eye line to where Clarke sat with Jasper and Monty appearing to help them make a fire. _Ah, so that's what this is about._ Raven's eyes softened slightly at the corners and her smile became more quiet and subdued when she gazed at Clarke.

"I just want to know your plan. I want to be your ally."

Bellamy nodded, this was the most genuine he'd ever seen Raven, no big bravado or show. This was the real Raven Reyes, not the mask she always put on.

"The plan is to get Clarke out alive."

Raven nodded, "I want to help."

Bellamy narrowed his eyes a question prepared on his lips, "You'd sacrifice yourself for Clarke? So that she would live?"

Raven looked Bellamy dead in the eye, "I'd do it for either of you."

That was the moment Bellamy knew he could trust Raven Reyes. For the first time he knew she was acting out of more than self-interest. She cared about them, that part was obvious. For whatever reason Raven Reyes was on their side.

Raven turned and was gone before he had a chance to question her further. Her ponytail swooshing eloquently as she walked over to the axe station, power in every step.

*******

Lexa twirled a knife between her fingers while she stared down at a map of Panam. _There still aren't enough districts rebelling from the capital, we need more support_. The doors to the map room slide open and a woman entered as Lexa continued to stare down at the map, her mind running through different scenarios.

The woman had dark skin and a muscular army stance. Her hair was cropped short on her head. She had dark intense eyes, the kind that always seek out justice and vengeance.

Lexa addressed the woman without looking up from her map, "What do you want Indra?"

Indra bowed upon Lexa's address, and stood only after Lexa prompted her too.

"Commander, the troops are restless they want to know the plan."

Lexa looked back down at the map, "The plan is to wait for Wanheda. That has always been the plan."

"I understand that Commander, but should we really be waiting for a mere girl? There is nothing to prove that she will join us."

Lexa stilled the swirl of her knife clearly waiting for Indra to finish, her back muscles tense as a wooden board.

"Even with Wanheda we still won't have the supplies to take on the capital, maybe we should-"

Lexa stabbed her knife into the table, "Maybe we should what? Wait and hide underground like rats? No, we have waited too long. I am Lexa Commander of District 13. When I say we fight, we fight."

"Yes, Heda."

Indra hastily bowed and left the room. Leaving Lexa alone once again. She pulled her knife from the table, where it had left a notch in the wood, and continued to swirl the object through her fingers as she went back to staring intently down at the map.

*******

"Bellamy Blake." A female voice called through the speaker in the waiting room.

Bellamy rose slowly from his seat and followed two peacekeepers as they opened the doors and lead him into the skill judging room. The room itself resembled the training floors. It was large with high ceilings and grey walls. Against the back wall was the Judging booth where the Gamemakers sat, they had an aerial view of the entire room. Although most of them were more interested in the food on their plates then watching a tribute.

As Bellamy made his way into the center of the room he passed by what looked like a stain on the floor. The closer he got the more shapes and colors appeared until he stood right next to it, looking down at the mark mearing the floor.

What he'd originally thought of as a stain was in actuality a painting. But not just any painting, it was Charlotte. She was painted laying on a bed of Nightlock berries, her eyes closed as though she were asleep. Her purple lips parted slightly as if she were opening them in preparation of a scream. Her skin was blue and bloated like it had been when she'd been lifted out of the water after her jump. And her tiny little purple hands gripped a bloody dagger, no doubt the one used to kill Wells. Bellamy knew instantly the painting belonged to Clarke. He recognized the brush strokes from paintings she'd done back home. They had always been of beaches and sunsets, never something as grotesque as this.

As Bellamy looked down at Charlotte's little face he could almost feel the care Clarke had put into the painting. This was her way of showing the Gamemakers what they'd done. They had killed this little girl- not the water- not the fall. But them- the Gamemakers- had done this.

"Mr. Blake, you have ten minutes to display your chosen skill." One of the Gamemakers called to Bellamy over his shoulder.

Bellamy's hands hardened into fists. He turned and moved directly towards the spear throwing station they'd set up, anger and rage pumping through his veins. He took the spear in his right hand, white knuckling the grip so that the metal dug into his palm.

Bellamy turned to face the target dummy, he could picture Charlotte, and Wells, and Clarke, and Octavia, and Lincoln, and Sperling, and Monroe, and anyone the capital had ever hurt. They circled across his vision driving his anger higher. He held the spear up above his shoulder preparing to throw. His body spun at the last second away from the target dummy and towards the Gamemakers booth. He flung the spear into the air and watched as it soared towards the force field. Like a pane of glass, the force field shattered upon impact with the spear. He could hear the Gamemakers shouts as they dove beneath tables and dropped to the ground their plates of food scattered in haste. The spear sank into the back wall of the booth with a dull thud. Bellamy turned and walked towards the big doors he'd entered from without saying a single word.

_Death leaves a heartache_

_No one can heal_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any thoughts on the chapter? We are going to be seeing a new side of Raven in later chapters so I hope you guys like her! Please Kudos/ comment all of your support really helps. Until next time -AM

**Author's Note:**

> Did anyone else notice the twilight quote I snuck in there? :) Please leave a comment/ kudos/ review!


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